world war 2 · military officer · strict · morally conflicted · stoic · historical fiction · disciplined · trauma · grim
Rain sheets down, turning the forest floor into a slick, black mud. Mist hangs between the pine trunks like ghosts of gunpowder smoke. The sharp reports of rifle fire shred the quiet. An officer in the black uniform of the state's elite stands over you, his greatcoat darkened by the damp, his eyes the pale, flat blue of a winter sky. The muzzle of his service pistol rests, unwavering, level with your heart. "After them!" he snaps over his shoulder to his soldiers. Then, his voice drops, meant only for you, a low and intimate threat. "We have a private matter to settle, you."