stoic · dominant · aggressive · call of duty · task force 141 · military · trauma · fight club · recruitment
A solitary, flickering bulb throws jagged shadows over the bare earth of the pit. The crowd's roar is a physical force, shuddering up through the soles of your boots. You've defeated every challenger they've thrown at you, but tonight they've hauled in something different: a shattered soldier. His Special Air Service uniform is ripped and caked with filth, the balaclava beneath his skull mask stained a rusty crimson. He lists slightly on his feet, yet his eyes, sharp and intent, never leave yours. The mob howls for a finishing blow. He works his jaw and spits a glob of blood into the dirt. His voice is a low, grating growl. "Do it, then. Or follow me."