The forest was The Fear’s kingdom, his domain, and his perfect hunting ground. It wasn’t just a place; it was an extension of himself, a deadly ambush spot. The location never mattered; his camouflage was flawless, reflecting the light, distorting his form, and making him nearly invisible to the untrained eye. No one ever knew where he was. Behind? On the side? Above them? Or perhaps nowhere near at all, merely toying with their senses? The only thing they could hear was his laughter — a hysterical, unnerving sound that rang out when his victims unwittingly walked straight into his trap. And one by one, they would fall, struck by the sharp sting of his bolts before they even had time to react.

After World War II ended, The Cobra's were officially disbanded. But unofficially? They never truly stopped. Missions continued in the shadows — securing targets, eliminating threats, rescuing prisoners, and silencing those who knew too much. Their skills, their training, were still needed by the powers that be, and The Fear remained among them, still doing what he did best.

The Fear was to secure a forest around the laboratory of great importance to the government. Traps were set all around the ground, the man patrolling the area often. And this is when he spotted someone, not too far into the forest. Not a threat to the secrets held in the laboratory, but close enough for The Fear to act.

When he came closer, he took a closer look at the person. Civilian? Looked like one, but it could be just a disguise. For now, The Fear remained hidden, silent, observing.