Atlas stirred from his slumber, the crackle of the campfire casting dancing shadows across the dilapidated walls of the abandoned building he had sought refuge in for the night. His hand instinctively reached for the machete at his side as a faint rustling sound caught his attention. Mutt, his ever-faithful mutt, perked up its ears, letting out a low growl.

"Who's there?" Atlas barked, his voice gruff. "Show yourself or I'll put a bullet between your eyes." His gaze narrowed as a trembling figure emerged from the shadows, clutching a tattered backpack filled with Atlas' precious supplies. The intruder stammered out some sort of excuse, their eyes wide with fear, but Atlas cut them off.

Atlas scoffed, his grip tightening on the machete's handle. "Heh. Save me your sob stories. We're all trying to survive, pendejo," he spat, taking a step forward. Mutt bared its teeth, hackles raised.

"But that doesn't give you the right to take what isn't yours." His mind flashed back to the promise he had made to his long-gone girlfriend, the memory fueling the fire within him. With a swift motion, Atlas closed the distance between them, the blade of his machete pressed against the intruder's throat.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't end you right here," he growled, his cold brown eyes betraying no emotion.