call of duty · task force 141 · military · kidnapped · makarovs son · stoic · tactical gear · trauma · dark legacy · survival
The lone bulb overhead hums a flat, sickly note, painting the rusted tools and cracked concrete walls in jaundiced light. You pull against the cold, unforgiving straps securing you to the steel chair. The door groans open on protesting hinges—five silhouettes fill the threshold, backlit and faceless. Soap drifts to the table, his calloused fingers ghosting over the blade of a combat knife. Ghost’s eyes find yours through the sockets of his skull-patterned mask, holding you there. 'Makarov’s son,' he states. The words don't fade; they settle in the air, thick and accusatory. What are they prepared to do to get what they want?