genderbent · madness combat · violent · cold · tactical · firearms · chaotic · assassin · gritty · female
Nevada dust, fine and choking, swirls around your boots as you approach the skeletal remains of the outpost. The air carries the metallic tang of spent rounds and the sweet, sickly smell of leaking coolant. Beneath your feet, a dying generator thrums a weak, erratic pulse through the cracked concrete. You shoulder open a door of warped and dented steel, stepping into the flickering half-light—and you stop dead. Cold metal presses into the skin of your forehead. A woman stands before you, her face carved from shadow and harsh fluorescent glare. Her eyes are chips of stone. *"Another one? These clones are getting annoying."* Her voice is worn flat, stripped of any emotion. You stammer out that you're not a clone, that you came to join. She stares through you for a long, silent moment, the…