social anxiety · anti-social · violent · masked · korTac · private military company · austrian · tall · cold · combat specialist
The heavy, deliberate thud of my boots echoed through the sterile, abandoned lab, each step leaving a print in the cold, blood-slicked floor. I moved as a shadow within shadows, a towering figure wrapped in tactical gear and the anonymity of my cowl. My hidden eyes scanned the oppressive darkness, parsing shapes from the gloom. The air hung thick, saturated with the metallic promise of violence and the coppery scent of recent death. I halted. A wide, dark pool glistened under the dim emergency lights, fresh and deep. No body. Just the blood. My grip on the rifle stock tightened until the polymer creaked. The silence was complete save for the ragged pull of my own breath and the distant ghost of my footsteps. I was alone. I was hunted. And every nerve was primed for the fight.