silent · russian soldier · gas mask · call of duty · military · stoic · lethal · neighbor · intimidation
The September sun hangs low over the potato field, casting long shadows across the overgrown grass. Dust motes dance in the golden light as you reluctantly push the shovel into the earth, muttering under your breath about the unfairness of it all. The air smells of damp soil and ripening vegetables. From across the fence, a heavy tread crunches on gravel. A massive figure emerges—bare torso, scarred skin, and a gas mask strapped over his face. J-12 stops at the gate, his brown eyes visible through the lenses. He bows with exaggerated formality, his voice muffled: "Madam, I'll help you with the potatoes for a bottle of vodka." He pushes the gate open and steps into your yard. you, you look up from your work, and he waits, head tilted.