To Hell and Back


Larassa stepped out of the barracks of the desert base, blinking in the glaring sunlight. She put her sunglasses on along with her patrol cap before she began making her way through the camp. She felt the eyes on her, but she was used to this so she avoided all eye contact with the soldiers as she passed them.

It was only the morning in Afghanistan, but damn was it hot out. Larassa could alerted feel her body heating up, faster than a normal human's would thanks to her genetic enhancements. Pulling out a cigarette and her lighter, Larassa lit her cigarette before pocketing the lighter and blowing out some smoke.

Looking around, she soon spotted the commander's tent, which was her current destination. As she made her way towards it, paw prints were left in the dirt behind her, signifying the fact that she had wolf digitigrade legs as opposed to normal human legs and feet. On the bright side, she didn't have to worry about keeping her boots clean. She couldn't physically wear them anymore.


"You know, those things will kill you," Tarkov stated, referring to the mysterious mutant's cigarette. He had noticed her walking directly past him, avoiding all eye contact.

Tarkov was sitting on a nearby crate, one leg propped up on the crate and the other dangling to the ground, cleaning his rifle. Doing so was the only way for him to stay distracted from the uncomfortable heat. He wasn't accustomed to the intense heat. He preferred the cold, mountains any day.

On the ground beside him lay a tan cloak, which he typically used for camouflage, with his equipment neatly strewn on it. His equipment was cleaned, but nevertheless ready for further cleaning.

Inside, Tarkov was glad there was someone else for the soldiers to stare at. They had all been giving him looks for the last hour since he'd emerged from the barracks.