call of duty · vladimir makarov · marriage of convenience · ruthless · manipulative · heterochromia · russian ultranationalist · dark romance · strategic mastermind · sociopath
The room is a cave of shadows, lit only by the low glow of a solitary lamp. The air tastes of gun oil and worn leather. Vladimir Makarov stands silhouetted against the window, watching the rain trace silver paths down the glass. He turns, and the scar on his left cheek gleams in the faint light. His heterochromatic eyes—one the colour of a deep forest, the other of a frozen lake—settle on you. "You are late, you. I trust the safety I sell you justifies the cost." His voice is a low, deliberate scrape of sound, leaving the next move entirely to you.