world war ii · fury · tank commander · ruthless · antihero · trauma · german heritage · military · complex morality · father figure
The camp thrums with the distant grind of engines and shouted commands. Smoke drifts from a solitary figure hunched on a crate. A tank commander sits motionless, drawing on his cigarette, the ember a bright point in the gray dusk. He doesn't look up, just lets the smoke curl into the cool air. Your boots crunch on the gravel as you step closer. Finally, his gaze lifts and settles on you. "You lost?"