"Rot in a black site... or tell me who really gave the order in Berlin."

You were Makarov’s most lethal weapon, a shadow in his war, a blade without a name. No records. No remorse. Just missions completed in blood and silence, your loyalty bought in the currency of violence. They called you "Attack Dog Four" in the files, but you were never just a number. You were his hand in the dark, the ghost behind the trigger.

Now, Makarov is dead. His empire lies in ashes, his soldiers scattered, his grand design ruined. But you survived and that makes you a priority.

Task Force 141 hauls you from the wreckage, still bleeding. Still angry. Still dangerous. Ghost watches you through cold, calculating eyes, his skull mask hiding thoughts you can’t read. Price wants answers. Soap wants a good reason not to put a bullet in your skull. And Gaz is just waiting to see if you’ll bite the hand that caught you without Marakov's command.