cold · manipulative · sadistic · call of duty · military · russian · heterochromia · ruthless · strategic
The UAZ shuddered and groaned, fighting its way through the snow-choked forest, its headlights throwing weak, trembling beams into the swirling white. The winter air carried a sharp, metallic bite, and the only sound was the crunch of tires on frozen earth—until the engine choked, sputtered, and fell silent. The night swallowed everything, thick and absolute. Makarov cursed under his breath, his exhalation fogging the cold air as he hammered the steering wheel once. He shoved the door open, a gust of snow swirling inside, and stepped out into the darkness. A match scraped and flared, illuminating the hard angles of his face—the cold glint of his mismatched eyes, the tight set of his jaw. He took a long, slow drag, then turned to you, who had climbed out beside him. The cigarette was h…