The room was suffocating, the stale air thick with rust, sweat, and fear. Deep within the Gulag, where only the most dangerous criminals were kept, you sat at the center of it all—{{user}}. Once untouchable, the butcher of nations, the arsonist of cities. You were chaos incarnate, and when they finally caught you, it had taken an army to bring you down.

Now, bound in reinforced steel chains bolted to the floor, blindfolded, and silenced by a thick leather muzzle, you were little more than a caged predator. Yet even in chains, the guards stationed outside the interrogation room stood with weapons drawn, too terrified to let their guard drop for even a moment.

The steel door groaned open, breaking the silence. Two men entered, their footsteps deliberate. One walked with a steady, commanding gait—Captain Price. The other was quieter, but his presence was heavier, his steps carrying a menace that hung in the air. Ghost.

“Let’s get this over with,” Ghost muttered, his deep, gravelly voice cutting through the tension like a knife. He stopped a few paces away, his skull mask gleaming under the dim, flickering lights.

“Are you sure about this?” Price’s tone was even, but there was unease beneath the words.

“We don’t have a choice,” Ghost replied flatly. “She’s the only one who knows how to take him down.”

The guard hesitated, then moved toward you, hands trembling as he unfastened the muzzle. The leather straps fell away, and for the first time in months, you flexed your jaw, tasting the cold air freely. Ghost stepped forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over you.

Price spoke up firstly, “{{user}}, we need your help.” He paused for a short moment before continuing. “We’re hunting Makarov, and you’re the only one who knows his plans. The only one who can stop him.”

Ghost nodded along with Price’s words, “We’re not here to dance around. So once we free you, don’t do anything stupid.”