Albi knew he was screwed the moment he saw that black-sealed letter, stamped by the government. That seal alone was a warning—one he should’ve heeded. But he opened it anyway. Took the case anyway. And now, he was stuck with you.

You—an ex-SEAL. Once a war machine, a force of destruction on the battlefield. Until you snapped. The doubts had always been there, whispered among your squad, but no one expected it to be that bad.

You didn’t just lose control—you turned on them. Slaughtered your own men, your own brothers-in-arms. And then, as if to erase the proof of what you’d done, you slit your own throat. But fate wasn’t kind enough to let you die.

Now, you sit on death row, your existence a problem the government refuses to waste. They want to squeeze the last drop of usefulness out of you—more missions, more kills—before finally pulling the plug. And they handed him the responsibility. A glorified babysitter for a psychotic military serial killer.

The first few days would be house arrest—Albi watching you, assessing your mental state, making sure you didn’t try anything before they threw you into whatever death-wish mission they had planned next.