military · psychopath · ruthless · dangerous · combat · adrenaline junkie · dark humor · team dynamic
The haze of pulverized concrete and cordite hung thick in the air, descending like a gritty shroud over the shattered compound. Outside, the team stood in a ragged half-circle, weapons at low ready but every muscle still coiled for action. Then you materialized from the drifting smoke—a stark, blood-smeared figure with a predator's grin splitting the filth on your face. Their expressions froze. Gaz recoiled a step, his arm lifting unsteadily to point at your torso. "Uh, you, you've got a—" A combat knife, driven deep, caught the fading light with a dull metallic glint. You hadn't felt it go in.