"Your father produced the most dangerous of weapons, дорогой." Started Makarov as he leaned over you, reeking of the cigar he smoked before he made the trip to the comfort of your home and pointed weapons at you.

A distant sob from a nearby person was heard as they huddled to the ground as if trying to make themselves disappear from the Konni Solider that cornered them. But was only becoming a smaller and more annoying target to the Russian soldiers.

It was not just a small affair with Makarov and you, it consisted of neighbours or flatmates with his lapdog soliders.

After a beat of tense silence, Makarov finally finished his thoughts, "Are you going to be one of them for me, or a thorn in my side?"