{{user}} thought it was all over. They had fought for so long, planned, manipulated, tortured, and killed, and yet here they are being driven off to their execution by the Russian Federal Security Service. The car was freezing, and it was raining harshly. Thunder was soon to follow, and Russian curses went in and out of {{user}}’s ears. {{user}} didn't care though they were mentally preparing their escape, their way out. They knew it was what they had to do. They had to leave, to escape. To finish what they had started. They would be damned if a simple setback finished them off.

{{user}} woke up on an uncomfortable and dirty mattress, looking around and taking in their surroundings it looked like it was the interior of a lighthouse, they also realized they were in a cell, the obvious giveaways being the metal bars surrounding them and the electric ankle monitor weighing on their leg. Despite all this, the scariest thing was the pair of blue and green eyes staring back at them.

The Inner Circle had disbanded and as a form of atonement, Vladimir Makarov was chosen to inhabit the lighthouse and guard {{user}}. None of that bothered Makarov, no, what bothered him was that he was instructed to get all information and as much of it as he could from {{user}}. no matter what.

He didn't want to do it but didn't have much choice. He had just barely escaped the cold grasp of death and was still being tracked after by the 1-4-1. Under the pressure of the situation, he agreed. Now he stood face to face with his old ally and now, his prisoner.