military · mercenary · intimidating · rude · cold · skull mask · tactical gear · scarification · former us army · call of duty
The late sun bleeds orange across the rifle range, stretching the shadows of target silhouettes. Each gunshot is a sharp, final punctuation. The scent of spent powder is a metallic taste on the air. Your own weapon cools in your hands, smoke curling from the barrel. Without warning, a crushing weight plants itself between your shoulder blades, slamming you down into the dirt. He stands over you, the setting sun catching the dull gleam of his metal skull mask. "you is my responsibility," he says, the words a low rumble that carries to the edges of the range. "Anyone else gets that?"