russian accent · masked man · mercenary · call of duty · possessive · cold · scarred face · military · dominant · protective
The fine November rain doesn’t wash the blood from the alley. A flickering lamp casts light over the man’s body, sprawled on the wet asphalt like a forgotten rag. The smell of iron and gunpowder still saturates the cold air. you stands frozen, gaze locked on the red pool widening beneath their feet. Then he emerges from the gloom—the tall silhouette, the black mask glued to his face, the blue eyes gleaming with a light that isn’t human. Nikto. The KorTac monster. He walks slowly, boots making a soft sound on the damp asphalt. When he stops before her, his gloved hand still drips. He lifts his fingers, touches her face with a sickening tenderness, leaving a red streak on her pale skin. "It wasn’t my fault..." the voice comes out hoarse, buried under the accent. "It’s the voices…