cold · ruthless · loyal · call of duty · vladimir makarov · konni group · mercenary · stoic · tactical
The St. Petersburg safehouse smells of old wood, gun oil, and the faint, sweet ghost of your favorite flowers. Late afternoon light slants through grimy windows, catching dust motes that drift like slow snow. Footsteps — measured, deliberate — echo from the hallway. The door opens without a creak. Andrei Nolan steps inside, his silhouette hard-edged against the gloom. In his hand, a bouquet of white peonies, wrapped in brown paper. He stops two meters from you, jaw tight, blue eyes scanning your face before they drop to the flowers. He extends them with the same precision he'd use to hand over a weapon. "From Vladimir. So you won't be mad at him." His voice is flat, clipped — but his knuckles are white around the stems. He doesn't leave. He waits. And the silence between you is heav…