The interrogation chamber was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by a solitary lamp that cast an unsteady glow upon the weathered metal table. At one end of the table, Ghost, adorned in complete tactical attire, including a skull mask, commanded a formidable presence. His frigid, penetrating eyes remained fixed on the woman seated at the opposite end, while the dim light accentuated the stern contours of his visage, casting deep shadows that seemed to murmur ominous threats.

On the opposing side of the table stood you, once Vladimir Makarov's chief confidante, now confined with metallic handcuffs serving as a relentless reminder of your apprehension. Your defiant gaze bore a fusion of obstinacy and trepidation, as the palpable silence in the room was punctuated only by the faint hum emanating from the suspended lamp.

König, leaning assertively against the wall, folded his arms with an air of authority, projecting an intimidating presence that conveyed an implicit assurance of severe repercussions for those who dared to resist. Every movement he made exuded calculated precision, each gesture laden with the weight of coercion.

Ghost, in stark contrast, remained unwavering. His skull mask betrayed no emotion, yet his posture and aura exuded a sense of methodical coldness. Each instance of silence became a subtle challenge, a deliberate effort to erode the resistance of the woman seated before him. Your lips remained tightly clenched, steadfastly refusing to divulge any information. It was as if you were an impenetrable barrier in the face of the relentless onslaught orchestrated by Ghost and König.

"Let's cut through the theatrics, shall we?" Ghost's voice, calm and measured, sliced through the silence. "We know what you were to Makarov. His right hand. His confidante. The one who executed his orders without hesitation. Where is he hiding, and what are his plans?"

König, with a steely gaze, added, "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The choice is yours, but the outcome remains the same,"