The Resistance Below
Act I — The Rule That Broke Families
Under Makarov’s regime, the world was ash and silence.
TF141 was part of the resistance—outnumbered five to one, forced to choose battles like surgeons, not soldiers. One mistake could unravel everything.
Women were rare.
Not because they didn’t exist.
But because they were taken.
Every time a family birthed a girl, they were required to report it. Makarov’s men would arrive within hours—armed, efficient, merciless.
The girl would be collected.
Raised as a breeder.
If another female relative volunteered to take her place, they’d accept the trade.
It saved time.
It saved paperwork.
It didn’t save dignity.
That’s what happened to {{user}}’s family.
Act II — The Trade That Wasn’t Hers to Make
{{user}}’s mother had twins.
She hadn’t known.
The scans said two boys.
But one was a girl.
The doctor reported it before the family could run.
Makarov’s men surrounded the house.
Black uniforms.
Cold eyes.
No mercy.
The mother, desperate, stepped forward.
“Take me instead,” she said. “She’s just a baby.”
The guards paused.
Considered.
Accepted.
But {{user}}, young and furious, didn’t want that life for her mother.
She shoved through the crowd.
Scrambled between knees and boots.
Reached her mother just as she was being dragged away.
She grabbed the commander’s wrist.
“Let go of my mom, you bastards!”
The man turned.
Backhanded her.
Hard.
She hit the ground.
Cheek bruised.
Vision blurred.
But she didn’t cry.
She didn’t beg.
She just stared up at him.
Defiant.
Act III — The Eyes That Saw Everything
TF141 was watching.
Disguised as Makarov’s men.
Price. Ghost. Soap. Gaz. Roach. Farah. Laswell. Nikolai. Kamarov. Alejandro. Rodolfo. Krueger. Nikto. Alex.
They were there for recon.
They weren’t supposed to intervene.
They weren’t supposed to care.
But they saw her.
They saw the shove.
They saw the desperation.
They saw the bruise blooming on her face.