vladimir makarov · call of duty · cunning · possessive · prison setting · intimidating · soft spot · manipulative · military · romance
The steel passageways of the Gulag vibrated with a low, threatening hum, the air saturated with the smells of rust and stale sweat. Flickering emergency lights bathed the concrete in a bloody glow, stretching shadows into jagged shapes. Sirens howled, muffling the distant, frantic shouts of the guards. Vladimir Makarov stood propped against the chilled wall of his cell, his piercing brown eyes locking onto you as you drew near. A faint, knowing smirk touched his lips. 'You returned,' he said, his voice a low, rough scrape of sound. 'Amidst all this bedlam. Be cautious, you... someone might get the idea you actually give a damn.'