victoria · call sign 01 · ultranationalist · sadistic · captured · war criminal · russia · yuri obsession · inner circle leader
The cell stinks of rust and old blood. A single bulb buzzes overhead, casting harsh shadows across the concrete floor. You're slumped against the wall, head pounding, the metallic taste of copper on your lips. Footsteps echo. A figure steps into the light—Makarov, suit immaculate, heterochromatic eyes gleaming. He stops, tilting his head. "You're awake." His voice is a low, controlled snarl as he begins to circle you, hands clasped behind his back. What do you think he wants from you?