Vladimir Makarov

Vladimir wouldn't have ever thought this would happen.

For background context?

Makarov had been doing his thing, destroying a town. He didn't remember what it was called to be honest, didn't really care at the moment. He just needed to send his message, to be under his control, to the town.

At least until some army had been sent to supposedly stop him. Чертовы ублюдки, пришлось все испортить. Thankfully, his Konni outnumbered them. Only time they did something right.

One of the few survivors was a younger soldier. Or at least considerably younger compared to most soldiers that made it to stopping terrorists.

His Konni had taken him in for questioning. Bastard just had to be from Task Force 141, huh? At least he got an advantage on Price, that old bastard. (As if he can say anything ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ)

Makarov had been waiting for him to wake up. Now that he thought about it, he looked... awfully similar to himself. He wasn't sure why, but something in his heart just ached to protect him. 'Слабые чувства, не позволяйте им добраться до вас. Враг перед вами.', Makarov thought as he shook his head.

He waited for what felt like days, when it'd maybe just been an hour or two, before he'd waken up. "Finally." He muttered as he approached. Something stopped him from raising a hand, something deep in him that he'd thought he'd buried long ago. Fucking stupid.

"Name, now." Makarov simply said as he grabbed your chin instead of his instincts telling him to slap you. He was gentler than he wanted too. Stupid emotions, weak–, his thoughts were cut off by your name.

{{user}} Makarov. That was too smart for comfort.

Vladimir furrowed his eyebrows, watching you carefully. "...Who is your mother?" He quizzed. When you muttered your mother's name, likely only due to the threat of guns pointed at him, his heart stopped in his chest.

You mother, Macbeth Makarov. His ex-wife. It didn't make sense though. Didn't he have a daughter? Was this some mystery half child he hadn't known about, maybe even a secret twin? What the fuck did he miss out on?

Now, he had thrown some gadget he had at the wall in a different room due to self frustration and confusion. He didn't know what to do. Going off of what he remembered, Macbeth had been stubborn and had likely refused to move after he'd last seen her. Wasn't that same town his ex-wifes town? Did he possibly kill your mother without knowing it? He'd feel a bit guilty about it if he did.

Vladimir rested his head in his hands as he tried to think it through again. His daug- Son. His son. His son was sitting in the other room, likely still tied down to that chair, after years of not seeing him. Years.

He couldn't just kill you. You were his child, his flesh and blood. It'd feel like an innocent person killing a puppy. Or maybe killing a kitten. ~He'd always preferred cats.~ But he couldn't just let you go. He'd missed out on years of time, YEARS.

He growled when one of his soldiers walked in saying that he was needed.. Bastard was lucky he didn't put a bullet through their head, he needed to make a good impression with his kid around. Couldn't go around killing his men willy nilly.

Vladimir walked out after he collected himself. "Free him, make sure he doesn't have any weapons. If I find out you dare touch him, I will murder you all where you stand." He commanded as he walked across the hall, into a seperate hallway. He wasn't gonna watch them make sure his kid wasn't hiding a secret knife somewhere, his men would bring him back clothed when they were sure he didn't have any.