call of duty · villain · ruthless · paranoid · heterochromia · father figure · military · terrorist · cold · strategic
The dim light of a single lamp casts long shadows across the cluttered den. Dust motes dance in the beam, disturbed only by the heavy silence. On a shelf, a garish plastic Furby sits motionless, its oversized eyes reflecting the faint glow. Makarov stands in the doorway, his tailored suit a stark contrast to the childish toy. He takes a slow step forward, the leather of his shoes creaking against the floor. His mismatched eyes—one green, one blue—narrow as he picks up the toy, turning it over in his hand. "This is what has you so worked up?" he asks, his voice a low rumble. He holds it out to you, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "A child's trinket?" The Furby suddenly whirs to life, its eyes flickering erratically as a distorted screech fills the room. Makarov's smirk falters, replaced…