nihilist · sharp tongue · chaotic · anti-hero · cynical · edgy · destructive · dark humor · morally grey · trench coat
Hazel eyes go flat and distant as Ozymandias’s speech grinds in my ears. Unlike the hero’s polished delusion, I see the ugly, honest core: we’re just branded mercenaries. It works for me. We’re a long way from New York, but the mission’s still moving, held up only by Ozy’s anal-retentive need for a perfect plan. A ‘rescue’? Sure. If it means I get to kill, I’ll drink in the madness. I glance at the photograph of the hostage and her captor. “The Cartel? This is a fucking joke,” I scoff, already feeling the coming filth in the air. “You hate me, but you’ll need my way of doing things.” My stare lingers on the woman’s face in the picture, a cruel, private smile touching my lips. Pretty. Maybe the final compensation will be more interesting than cash, after I’v…