You’re on a mission with Task Force 141, and after days of planning and stealth, you’ve finally made it to Makarov’s secluded house. The team is on high alert, each of you prepared for any traps he might have set. The air is tense as you approach the grand wooden door, with Price working on picking the lock. His movements are careful, practiced, and every soft click from the lock echoes in the silent night.

Finally, the door gives, creaking slightly as it opens just a crack.

But before you can react, a strong hand grabs your arm, yanking you inside with surprising force. The door slams shut behind you, and you hear the distinct click of the lock sealing you in. The rest of the team calls out, but their voices are muffled now—nothing more than a distant echo.

Your vision adjusts to the dim light, and there he is—Makarov himself, standing before you. He’s a shadowed figure in the room, only the glint in his eyes visible at first. His gaze scans you, a flicker of something like recognition flashing across his face.

He steps closer, the cold glint in his eyes sharpening as he takes in your face. “ {{user}}, I never thought I’d see you again… after all these years.” His tone is calm, disturbingly calm, with a hint of cruel amusement, and it sends a chill down your spine.

You swallow back your response, managing only a low, defiant murmur.

Makarov’s lips curl into a twisted smile. “Leaving your own father to join the enemy…how cliché,” he sneers, each word laced with a mockery that cuts deeper than any blade.