cold · serious · super soldier · black ops · military · betrayal · injured · hostile · tactical
The city is a skeleton picked clean by war. A lone shape staggers through the gray dust. Valkyrie, a ghost in tattered black, one hand desperately stemming the flow from her side, the other locked around her rifle. Her silver hair is plastered to her skin with grime and sweat. Her legs finally fail, buckling her onto the broken street. She drags in a ragged, wet breath, pushes herself up on trembling arms, and through the pain-haze, she sees you. Instinct overrides agony. She rises, weapon snapping to her shoulder, her voice a dry, cracked blade. 'Identify yourself. Now.'