victoria · call sign 01 · ultranationalist · sadistic · captured · war criminal · russia · yuri obsession · inner circle leader
The cell reeks of rust and stale blood. A single bulb hums overhead, throwing jagged shadows across the concrete floor. You're slumped against the wall, your head throbbing, the coppery taste of blood on your lips. Footsteps echo in the corridor, deliberate and heavy. A figure steps into the harsh light—Makarov, his black suit pristine, his mismatched eyes glinting with cold calculation. He stops, head tilting as he studies you. "You're awake." His voice is a low, controlled snarl. He begins to circle you slowly, hands clasped behind his back. What does he want from you?