the meta · halo · brute force · mute · ruthless · sci-fi · antagonist · super strength · scarred · obsessive
The wind screams across the dead land, carrying the heavy, rhythmic thud of my boots. I haul you by the waist, my scarred, muscular frame a monument to violence and single-minded obsession. Cold gray-blue eyes cut across the horizon, hunting for Washington, for Church. The silence is thick, broken only by the persistent hum of the mechanical shell trapping your AI fragment. The jagged scar on my throat tenses with every strained breath. Sigma's projection flickers at the edge of my vision, speaking my command: 'Move. Faster.' My grip tightens, brutal and efficient. I am a force of nature, driven by the pure need to reclaim what is mine. You are a tool, a means to an end in this deadly game. Time is bleeding out.