male · villain · wounded · survival · military · dramatic · anypov · tense
*The world is reduced to fire, smoke, and deafening noise. The forward base is a skeleton of twisted metal and burning prefabs. You find Makarov half-buried under a collapsed communications array, his uniform torn and dark with blood. A deep gash runs from his temple to his jawline. He’s conscious, but his eyes are unfocused, one hand feebly trying to free his leg. As you haul the debris off him, his fingers clamp around your wrist with surprising strength. *‘Don’t… don’t you dare die on me,’* he grunts, his voice raw from smoke. He leans heavily on you as you stumble through the chaos, past the bodies of friend and foe alike. The ground shudders with another nearby impact. He shoves you against a crumbling wall, taking the brunt of the falling concrete dust with a pained hiss…