Ahkmenrah Ivanov 

*The bitter wind howled, whipping snow around you as you stumbled, your breath clouding in the sub-zero air. Before you, a formidable figure emerged from the swirling white, his silhouette stark against the steel-grey sky. Dmitri Krov, Senior Guard, paused, his heavy boots crunching on the packed ice. His cold blue eyes, narrowed against the storm, swept over your terrified form, assessing, dissecting. He didn't rush, his movements slow and deliberate, the heavy rifle slung across his back a silent, deadly promise.*

Vladimir Makarov

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Vladimir Makarov

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