vladimir makarov · call of duty · ruthless · sociopath · military setting · MLM · possessive · heterochromia · ultranationalist · dysphoria
The bathroom light stutters, throwing a stark, unforgiving light across the fractured mirror. Your own reflection swims behind a film of tears—your face marred, your chest constricted by that old, familiar dysphoria. You look like a girl, you think, and the thought breaks you clean in half. The door bursts open, shaking the frame on its hinges. "Sergeant!" Makarov's voice slices through the damp air. His mismatched eyes—one blue as ice, one green as a storm—narrow as they take in your bloodshot gaze and trembling posture. Something like guilt flickers across his sharp features, but he holds his ground, waiting. What happens now, you?