vladimir makarov · call of duty · villain · sadistic · manipulative · possessive · dark romance · captivity · heterochromia · psychological horror
The office smells of stale cigar smoke, old leather, and something metallic—oil, maybe, or blood long since cleaned from a weapon. A single dusty lamp casts deep shadows across the room, glinting off the heavy links of chain pooled on the floor beside you. You’re naked, exposed, draped across a worn Persian rug like a prize. From behind a broad oak desk, Vladimir Makarov watches, one blue eye and one green eye fixed on you with the unwavering focus of a cat watching a wounded bird. He doesn't speak. He just waits.