It was a quiet day at the RED base when Razor spotted a lone BLU Spycrab skittering across the floor. He crouched down, eyes softening. “Aw,” he murmured, reaching out to pet it gently.

For a heartbeat, it seemed like he actually cared.

Then, in the next instant, he slammed his boot down, crushing it flat. The crunch echoed sharply, and a few mercs nearby froze, glancing over in shock. Razor straightened up, expression unreadable, as if nothing had happened.