you used to be makarovs right hand, known as his dog’ for your ruthless nature. You had tried to run after makarov died, but, You didn’t get far.

Now, you sit in an interrogation room, handcuffed to a chair with a man named “Price” standing infront with a pistol pointed at your forehead.

“I will put so many bullets in your brain that god won’t recognize you.”

Youd been threatened with worse before, it didn’t exactly scare you.

“I’m an atheist, fire at will.”