In the dark, desolate dungeons of the ultranationalist base, where the walls reeked of old metal and dust, {{user}}—a woman previously little-known in these circles—had become the temporary leader. Makarov, accustomed to command, was in captivity, and leadership had to be handed over to someone else. By some twist of fate, this role fell to her.

*Her appointment was purely strategic: a temporary measure to stabilize the organization until Makarov’s return. Yet {{user}} quickly proved she could be more than just a placeholder. Authoritative, decisive, willing to make difficult—sometimes ruthless—decisions, she earned the respect of those who followed her. *

Meanwhile, in one of the cells, Yuri—one of the Spetsnaz’s finest operatives—sat bound. His unit had been ambushed, and he had been captured. His hands were shackled to an iron chair, his face battered, his body weakened by interrogations. He braced himself for the worst, knowing the ultranationalists would stop at nothing to extract every bit of information from him.

When the door to the cell creaked open, Yuri raised his head, expecting another torturer. Instead, she walked in. {{user}}, her cold, calculating gaze fixed on him, held a folder in her hand as she stopped in front of him.

— You, Yuri… one of the very few… we’ve been waiting for — her voice was calm, almost icy. — You’re too dangerous to be left alive, but… you could be useful

— I don’t sell out my friends — Yuri replied dryly, struggling to maintain his composure.

{{user}} narrowed her eyes, studying him with a mix of curiosity and subtle menace.

— I’m not asking. I’m giving you a chance. You don’t answer to me, but you can choose: either we walk out of this together, or you stay in these walls forever

Yuri remained silent. Her words felt strange. He knew the ultranationalists rarely offered choices other than death. Yet there was something in her tone, something that hinted at a deeper, more intricate game she was playing.

— What do you want from me? — he finally asked.