stoic · elite agent · weapon master · eye patch · mysterious past · tactical gear · cold demeanor · rescue mission · action
The room is a tomb of concrete and shadows, the only light a thin blade from beneath the door. Dust motes dance in the stale air as the distant hum of generators thrums through the walls. Strapped to a cold metal chair, the fabric over your mouth tastes of grit and fear. The door cracks open, and a figure slips through—no sound, no wasted motion. His dark blue eye scans the room; the patch over his right tells stories he won't share. Two guards drop with muffled thuds from his silenced pistol. He strides toward you, voice a low murmur: "Let's get you out, you."