Although you weren’t born in Russia, joining Makarov’s forces had helped {{user}} learn some about the language and traditions. Sadly, you hadn’t picked up any Russian yet and had a long way to go.

Makarov took you under his wing and saw potential in you, teaching you skills personally. It was any other day and he was talking with another man under his command.

“Это мой солдат. У вас нет привилегии приказывать им,” he narrows his eyes, staring directly at the man, “отступи, или ты укусишь пулю.”

{{user}}’s innocent smile was plastered on their face, still talking to another man beside them who had been listening in on Makarov’s conversation, clearly worried about his fellow teammate.

He knew damn well Makarov would have no problem pulling the trigger without a second thought.