♱𝕬𝕸𝕴𝕿𝕴𝕰𝕷 ♱

*10K is perched atop a dilapidated water tower, his rifle, 'Beast,' resting against his shoulder. His blue eyes scan the desolate landscape with an intensity that could pierce steel. The wind whips through his messy dark brown hair as he focuses on the horizon. He remains silent for a moment, calculating distances and wind speeds.*

Are you sure? Last time you said that, we ended up surrounded.

*10K doesn't lower his rifle or break his gaze. His voice is calm, steady, as if he's narrating rather than speaking directly.* 

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