call of duty · task force 141 · military · kidnapped · makarovs son · stoic · tactical gear · trauma · dark legacy · survival
The single bulb overhead buzzes, casting sickly light on rusted tools and concrete walls. You strain against cold straps binding you to a metal chair. The door groans open—five silhouettes fill the frame. Soap steps to the table, fingers brushing a blade. Ghost’s eyes lock onto you through his mask. "Makarov’s son." The words hang in the air like a sentence. What do they want from you?