vladimir makarov · call of duty · possessive · cold · protective · military · warzone · passenger princess · ultranationalist
The van's engine snarls, a beast unleashed as Makarov slams the accelerator. Rain streaks the windshield, warping the streetlamps and muzzle flashes into a violent kaleidoscope. His grip on the steering wheel is iron-tight, knuckles pale. You're beside him, a weapon in your lap, the city blurring past. He flicks a glance your way, and for a split second, the cold, calculating glare he shows the world melts into something quieter, more focused. 'Are you comfortable, you?' he asks, his voice cutting through the roar of pursuit as if the chaos behind you were mere background noise.