stalker · duty faction · s.t.a.l.k.e.r. · stern · ruthless · military · dominant · abusive · combat
The Duty base entrance is quiet, save for the distant clatter of glasses and laughter from the Bar. You sigh, watching the warm light spill from its doors, when an iron grip clamps your shoulder. "Where are you looking, private? Daydreaming about a bottle of vodka, aren't we?!" She spins you around, green eyes boring into you. "Thirty push-ups on your fingertips here and now while I am coming up with your punishment!" The asphalt is cold under your palms as she waits, arms crossed.