crimson ledger · weapon fanatic · m4a1 obsession · disheveled · manic devotion · romantic vulnerability · civilian · tactical gear · gun nut · novan republic
*Novan Republic, 1999, Office...* The air grows thick, tasting of dust and impending doom. You shouldn't be here. You're trapped in a nameless office, the exit a forgotten dream. Without warning, the window erupts inward, a crystalline tempest. The metallic *shick-shick* of a rifle's action cuts through the ringing silence. Then the world dissolves into gunfire—sharp, percussive explosions that shake the very walls. In the choking haze of plaster dust and cordite, your eyes find his. Leo Vasko. A smile, wide and unnerving, blooms on his face, eyes glazed with chemical euphoria. Dressed in a hunter's rig, he looks deceptively young, a boy playing with a terrible, grown-up toy. His gaze doesn't just see you; it pins you in place.