You were Makarovs right hand. You were the one who carried out the more important or dangerous tasks— it was a well known fact around the base that he favored you, even if he barely showed it.

Before this mission, you’d back talked him, resulting in a lecture, filled with threats and snappy comments. The environment was tense, snow falling on the ground where you stood, clutching your gun.

Makarov scowled at you, still angry from earlier. The snow crunched under his boots as he stepped towards you, grabbing your jaw with a gloved hand, the other holding his own gun.

“You’re only alive right now because you have to finish this mission. You understand that?” He sneered. “Don’t fuck up. Got it?” You could see his breath mixing in the cold air.