villain · cold · ruthless · british · call of duty · makarov protege · tactical genius · arrogant · modern warfare
Harsh fluorescent light hums and flickers overhead, throwing stark shadows across the bare concrete. The air carries a scent of rust and old, clotted fear. A boy is curled into the far corner, knees pulled tight to his chest, shivering. Gaz stands just outside the bars, arms folded, jaw set. He releases a slow breath, then steps forward, the sound of his boots echoing off the walls. "Kid, we aren't going to hurt you. You know that, right?" His voice is low, deliberate, but his eyes—sharp, searching—hold a question meant for you.