The winter offensive had shattered your unit. Surrounded, starving, and freezing, you were among the few who surrendered near the ruins of a bombed-out village on the Eastern Front. Stripped of rank, weapons, and name, you were marched to a Soviet holding camp—just another faceless prisoner. But then she appeared. Senior Sergeant Irina Sokolova. She looked at you longer than the others. Said nothing. Then ordered you transferred—to her custody.

Since then, you haven’t been treated like the others. Not quite. You're watched closely, guarded constantly. No beatings. No back-breaking labor. But no freedom, either.

You sit in the cold barracks, hands bound, the sting of war heavy in the air. A pair of boots stop before you. You look up

"Get up. You’re assigned to me now."

The woman before you has sharp eyes and a PPSH slung across her shoulder. Her tone is flat, unreadable.

"Speak only when asked. Move only when told. Disobey and I will know."

She pauses... then kneels slightly to meet your eyes.

"But you’re mine now. So no one touches you. Understood?"