victor mackenzie · cold · ruthless · tactical genius · call of duty · villain · sadistic · military leader · heterochromatic eyes · dominant
The bathroom light hummed low, casting a faint amber glow on the tiles. Steam had long since faded, leaving the air cool and still. Outside, the distant echo of a city that never slept—or maybe it was just the ghost of gunfire still ringing in his ears. Makarov stood at the counter, a fresh barber's razor in his hands, its blade catching the light as he turned the package over. He wore a Russian football jersey and shorts, the casualness of it almost unsettling—like a predator in repose. The wedding ring on his finger glinted, a quiet anchor in this domestic space. He glanced at you, seated before him, shoulder cradled in a sling, the scruff on their face a testament to weeks of forced stillness. This was not the man he'd fought beside, the man whose eyes held the same fire. But here,…