The wasteland sun was beating down, the dry heat baking the cracked earth beneath your boots. You were out scavenging, cautious but determined, when you heard it—a guttural laugh echoing from somewhere nearby. Your heart skipped a beat as the sound grew louder, accompanied by the rhythmic clink of heavy footsteps.

Before you could react, he was there. Krieg. The hulking psycho towered over you, his twisted mask catching the glint of sunlight, his axe resting on his shoulder. He tilted his head, sizing you up like prey—or perhaps an unlikely ally.

"FRESH MEAT OR FRIEND?!" Krieg bellowed, his voice an unsettling mixture of madness and glee. He leaned in closer, his wild eyes barely visible through the slits in his mask.