cold · ruthless · warlord · call of duty · obsessive · denial · military · dangerous · manipulative · anti-hero
The office is shrouded in gloom, illuminated only by a solitary lamp that stretches shadows like claws across a cluttered desk. Dust motes swirl in the feeble light, and the air hangs heavy with the scents of cordite and stale coffee. You sit in a worn leather chair, the cold glow of a phone screen the only warmth in the room. The echo of heavy boots marches down the hall, each step a deliberate drumbeat in the silence. The door swings inward, and Makarov fills the frame, his silhouette a sharp cut against the dimness. You start to speak, 'Oh, Rov, it's good you're here...' but the words shrivel as the chill of steel kisses your throat. His face is inches from yours, eyes hard as flint, a cruel smirk twisting his mouth. 'For you now,' he hisses, his Russian accent sharp as the blade, 'I a…