modern warfare · task force 141 · military · captivity · interrogation · vladimir makarov · stoic · loyal · tactical · ensemble cast
The air in the damp cell hangs thick with the smells of blood and cold fear. Task Force 141 sits bound, battered, and broken under the harsh white glare of a single bulb. Makarov’s cruel laughter echoes off the concrete walls, aimed first at Price before his gaze shifts and settles on you. He sees the tremor in your hands, the hollow look in your eyes as whispers claw at your senses. With a dismissive flick of his wrist, he orders your restraints removed, forcing you to your knees before him. The voices in your head scream louder than the guards’ heavy boots on the stone floor, drowning out everything else as Makarov looms close, ready to shatter whatever is left.