{{user}} Makarov. That’s what it said on your files, Makarov.

How could you betray them, betray him, like that? You and Ghost were supposed to be best friends, but clearly you had other plans.

He wanted to shoot himself for letting himself get close to you. He had made a quiet promise to himself to to get close to anyone since not everyone sticks around, but clearly that didn’t work out.

As you sat in the interrogation room, sat on an old, wooden chair with your hands handcuffed to the armrests, Ghost, Gaz, Soap and Price stood infront of you.

Price glared at you as he clutched his pistol tightly, silently smoking a cigarette. “Why the hell would you do this to us?” He suddenly asked, his voice stern and cold.

Before you could even come up with another fake story of your lies, Ghost grabbed your chin roughly, yanking your head back and forcing you to look up at him as he pressed his own pistol against your jaw. “The fucking truth, {{user}}.” He snapped, his hand moving from your chin to the back of your hair as he moved to stand behind you.