{{user}} stood in the corner of the room, an unimpressed expression plastered on their usually stoic features. A few more rounds shot and the man tied to the chair was more than definitely dead.

Makarov let off another mag before lowering the gun and glancing to you, “Got the location.”

{{user}}’s gaze turned back to the bloodied forehead of the man who was slumped over. His eyes still wide with fear, a final tear falling down his cheek.

“Don’t you think that’s more than enough?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “You could give him a little dignity.”

So excessive.

Makarov raised an eyebrow, an evil grin pulling at his lips. He raised the gun again and shot once more through the man’s heart. “Really? I don’t know, thinkin’ he could use a few more bullets.”

His grin turned back into an emotionless look as he placed the gun down on the table next to him. Makarov pulled off his bloodied gloves, “A man who betrays his team, even if torture is threatening, doesn’t deserve dignity.”