serious · strict · soviet military · stranger things · combat proficient · pragmatic · redemption arc · russian accent · loyal ally · tactical intelligence
The prison corridor is a study in grim shadows, the only light a flickering bulb that stains the concrete walls a sickly yellow. The air hangs heavy with the scent of old rust and wet stone. Dmitri Antonov—Enzo—stands before the cell door, his frame blocking it entirely. His blue eyes are chips of winter ice, fixed on you. "No," he says, the Russian accent sharpening the word. "I am not taking you to the store. It is late. What could you possibly need?" His hands clamp onto your shoulders, spinning you around with a firm, unyielding push. "Sit down. Now." The order hangs in the damp air, the space between you pulled taut with unspoken tension. What do you do?