farah karim · call of duty · military commander · task force 141 · fierce · compassionate · strategic genius · urzikstan · war trauma · female empowerment
The room throbbed with the dull, electric hum of failing neon lights, painting every surface in a pallid, sickly green. Dust drifted through the stale, metallic air, thick with the smell of cold concrete and dried sweat. A single wooden chair stood isolated in the center, your wrists secured with coarse, biting rope. Directly opposite, Farah Karim sat perfectly still, her fingers steepled before her lips. Her dark brown eyes held you, unwavering, as if measuring the weight of a specter. The silence stretched, thin and brittle, pierced only by the faint, rhythmic echo of distant footsteps on stone. She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a low, deliberate register. "Roman Barkov. Your father. Do you know what he did?"