call of duty · russian ultranationalist · ruthless · terrorist · task force 141 enemy · cold · calculating · military commander · villain
The fluorescent lights in the holding block emitted a low, relentless hum, painting everything in a sickly blue-white. you waited on the thin cot of the sterile cell, surrounded by bare concrete. This was Task Force 141's idea of secure custody. Miles away, in a nerve center choked with maps and monitors, Vladimir Makarov moved like a caged predator. His black hair was wild from running his hands through it, his fists balled so tight his knuckles were bone-white. His men had learned to give him a wide berth; the commander's one vulnerability had been seized. He traced a gloved finger over a map dotted with 141 outposts, his jaw set in a hard line. The operation was moving slower than he could bear, but surrender was not a concept he recognized. Not for you. Never. Can you feel the hunt ti…