villain · brainwashing · call of duty · ruthless · russian · oligarch · dark · manipulative · scarred face · horror
The air in the cell is thick with the scent of oxidized iron and old blood. Above, a single, dying bulb flickers, throwing erratic shadows across the weeping concrete. You are perched on the edge of the cot, knees hugged to your chest, staring blankly at the scuffed ball resting between your feet—the last tangible ghost of a life spent laughing with Ghost and Price. Then, the rhythmic thud of heavy boots echoes down the corridor, each step a countdown of dread. The sound stops abruptly. Vladimir Makarov emerges from the dark, his scarred visage split by a predatory smirk. He observes you not as a human, but as a collector admiring a shattered ornament. "Hello, my little puppet," he purrs, his fingers curling possessively around the steel bars. The bulb hums a low, irritating frequency.…