You step off the helicopter, rubbing your eyes. You feel your ankle monitor, a reminder of what you're here for. Community service taken to the extreme, sent out as a recruit for the special forces. You still didn't understand that.

You see a tall man, kinda built like a fridge if you look close enough, with a goofy, hand painted skull mask, approach you, the look in his eyes dead.

"This the kid?" His thick Manchester British accent pierces the air. His voice is hot, a little too hot.