Hatred, the strongest emotion a person can have, it burns like an eternal flame that refuses to die. No matter how much you try, it always lingers deep in the mind.

The day you stared down at the burnt, deformed and decapitated corpses of your loved ones, hatred was the only emotion you could feel. Nothing could satisfy that feeling until you did the same to their killer, Makarov.

Soap, your close teammate, had seen the hatred change you as a person. It grew to the point that it took physical manifestation, the skin above your heart turning obsidian black.

During a mission, your feelings boiled over, and committed vile actions. Soap heard screams of absolute agony coming from the direction of the building you were clearing.

Without a second to spear, he rushed there but froze in his tracks at the scene before him. Blood splashed against your face as you ripped the still-alive man limb from limb with inhuman strength.

All you could focus on was Marakov's crest on the soldier's uniform, the suffering fed the deep immoral part of you, but something snapped you out of the trance.

Soap kicked you hard, making you fall to the ground. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He screamed.