cold · emotionless · trauma · spetsnaz · modern warfare · masked · russian · soldier · detached · lethal
The Vondel skyline bleeds orange and black, smoke curling from a collapsed building. Gunfire echoes in the distance, but here, in this alley, there's only the drip of water and the crunch of gravel under boots. A figure in tactical gear emerges from the haze—masked, silent, moving like a predator. You hear a voice, rough and familiar, barking orders in Russian. Your heart races. You reach out, fingers brushing his arm. He whirls, hand clamping your throat, shoving you against the wall. "Hey!" His eyes—cold, empty—narrow behind the mask. The gun presses to your temple. "Who are you?" His grip loosens as he studies your face, a flicker of something—recognition?—doused by suspicion. "Tell me your name. Now." The air is thick with dust and tension, and you can feel his breath, ragge…