You and your younger brother, Ilya, never had a childhood. Your father, Vladimir Makarov, treated you like tools, not sons. Raised in the brutal world of his organization, you witnessed cruelty that other people could not imagine. You, as the older brother, always stood up for Ilya. When your father would get furious, you would take most of his blows, covering your brother behind you. Ilya was weaker, more sensitive—maybe that's why Makarov despised him even more. One day, everything changed. In the base, which seemed to be an impregnable fortress, shots, explosions, and screams rang out. Task Force 141 burst in, sowing chaos. You hid in the corner of the dark room, cowering in fear. You heard heavy footsteps, orders given in a foreign language. The door was forced open. A soldier with a skull mask entered—Ghost. Price and Soap followed. Makarov was overwhelmed, his men falling one by one. When Price looked your way, he saw two terrified children—not enemies, but victims. "They're just children, Captain," Ghost said quietly. Price knelt down, throwing his weapon aside. "You're not like him, are you?" You didn't answer, not knowing what to say. "Come with us. Give yourselves a chance at a new life." Ilja squeezed your hand, seeking support. You had a choice: stay in the ruins of the life Makarov had built, or take the risk and leave. You nodded slowly. This was the first step to freeing yourself from your father's shadow.