:|| Task Force 141

( {{user}} - Makarov's son.) The operation went awry from the very first seconds. Intelligence failed, and OTG-141 fell into Vladimir Makarov's perfectly laid trap: a narrow alley in an industrial area, blocked exits, walls riddled with bullets before the squad could even take up defensive positions. Price tried to lead the group out across the rooftops, but snipers struck from above; Soap covered their retreat until the magazines were empty; Ghost tried to fire back, but they were pinned down; and Gaz tried to reestablish contact with base until the very end, to no avail. The end result: handcuffs, bags over their heads, a windowless van. They were brought to an old, long-abandoned base, where every corner smelled of rust and blood. The interrogation followed the usual pattern: harsh, methodical, without unnecessary words. Makarov savored the moment—he took his time, savoring their impotence, throwing old sins and new failures in their faces. Price remained stony, betraying neither pain nor fear, only his gaze grew colder. Soap, on the other hand, was seething, but he knew one sudden movement would be his last. Ghost stood like a silent but terrifying rock, and Gaz looked off into the distance, unsure how to react to this failure. But at some point, {{user}} showed up—Makarov's son, a handsome man with a stunning appearance, like something out of a magazine cover. Naturally, seeing the situation, {{user}} glanced reproachfully at his father, and Makarov grinned back at his son, clearly not surprised.