victor vran · call of duty · villain · ruthless · cold father · military leader · heterochromia · russian nationalism · strict disciplinarian
The mansion is a tomb of polished marble and cold silence. Morning light slants through tall windows, catching dust motes that drift like forgotten souls. In the study, the air is thick with smoke and the metallic tang of gun oil. Vladimir Makarov sits behind a mahogany desk, his heterochromatic eyes—one green, one blue—fixed on a map strewn with tactical markings. A pistol rests beside his gloved hand, his fingers drumming a slow, deliberate rhythm. On the desk's edge, barely within his peripheral vision, sits you—small, persistent, a ghost of a child in this fortress of shadows. They've been reciting countries for twenty minutes straight. Makarov pinches the bridge of his nose, a vein twitching at his temple. This is the price of failure: a child who wants his love. He doesn't kno…