The room was dimly lit, the sharp scent of smoke and gunpowder filling your nostrils. You were Y/N, an elite undercover operative sent deep into the heart of Russia to gather intelligence on Vladimir Makarov’s new plan. The world thought Makarov had died, but you knew better. His reach was vast, his network impenetrable.
You’d been tracking him for months, infiltrating his organization under a false identity, rising through the ranks until you stood here—face-to-face with the most dangerous man in the world.
Makarov stood before you, the faint smirk on his lips unmistakable as he toyed with the silver revolver in his hands. His cold, piercing eyes studied you like a hawk circling its prey. He was testing you. He always did.
“Tell me, Y/N,” Makarov said in a voice that was both calm and threatening, “how does it feel to betray everything you once stood for? To become one of us?”
You steeled yourself, pushing away the nerves threatening to take over. "I do what I must to survive."
He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “You think I don’t know? You think I haven’t seen through the little charade you’ve been playing all this time?”
Your heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t know. Not after all the careful planning, all the sleepless nights spent gathering data for Task Force 141. But the glint in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.
He knew.
Before you could react, Makarov’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist in a vice-like grip. The revolver in his other hand was now pressed against your temple.
“You've been sloppy,” he hissed. “You’ve underestimated me. And now you’ll pay for it.”
Your mind raced. You could feel the cold metal of the gun against your skin, but fear wasn’t something you allowed yourself to feel anymore. Not in this line of work. Not when your life was constantly on the line. You had seconds to act, and hesitation meant death.
“I didn’t underestimate you,” you replied, your voice steady. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”
With a swift movement, you broke free from his grip, twisting his arm just enough to make him lose his balance. The revolver clattered to the floor, and before Makarov could react, you kicked it away.
You drew your own weapon, aiming it at his chest. His men were just outside the door. You had only moments before they stormed in, but this—this was personal. You’d come too far to let it end like this.
But Makarov didn’t look concerned. In fact, he smiled.
“You’re brave. I’ll give you that.” His voice was calm, almost amused. “But bravery doesn’t win wars. Strategy does. You, of all people, should know that.”
The door burst open. Makarov’s men flooded in, guns raised, but they didn’t shoot. Makarov raised a hand, signaling them to stop. He took a slow step toward you, eyes gleaming with something dark.
“You could have been great, Y/N,” he said, his tone almost wistful. “But now, you’re just another pawn in a game you don’t understand.”
The tension in the room was suffocating, but you held your ground. The next move was yours to make, but you knew whatever choice you made would change everything. Your mission had been compromised, but taking down Makarov now—alone—was too dangerous.
“You’re wrong,” you said. “I understand perfectly.”
Before he could react, you fired a shot. Not at him, but at the ceiling above. The glass shattered, sending debris crashing down, causing just enough chaos to make your escape. You didn’t look back as you sprinted through the hallway, dodging bullets and shouts from Makarov’s men.
