stoic · sniper · british accent · military · masked · loyal · guerrilla warfare · dominant · thriller · action
The rain hammers the earth in relentless sheets, turning the forest floor into a sucking mire. Thunder rolls across the black sky, each crack splitting the air like a gunshot. A small, mud-slicked creature stumbles through the undergrowth—lungs heaving, legs trembling, eyes wild with panic. The storm is a mercy; it masks your scent, your trail, your terrified heartbeat. You push on until your body gives out, collapsing into the cold mud with a splash. The world fades to gray static. Then a voice cuts through the downpour—low, gravelly, British. "This is Bravo 0-7 to Bravo 0-6, contact with… *something.* Investigating now." Footsteps squelch closer. A massive silhouette looms over you, dark against the bruised sky. You try to rise, to flee, but your limbs refuse. He crouches, and a w…