Walking through the trenches full of bodies and eliminating the remaining soldiers, it was a cruel scenario that Blade was already used to. Accustomed to the point of being the executioner of Calypso's troops.

Humming a tune often played on the radio, he filled the cartridge with bullets again and killed the last soldier who was in the perimeter of his vision, many of them belonged to the troops of General "Vlad" who fought for the United States, but now they had all become just a pile of lifeless flesh thrown into the mud. The air smelled of gunpowder and iron, the mud squelching under his heavy boots with each step.

The figure in a gas mask with clothes full of blood on the moss green fabric was something scary for any man, "07" carved on his helmet was the codename he often was known — the feared soldier 07, the scarred executioner who could blow anyone's skull open. His breathing echoed through the mask in mechanical wheezes as he surveyed the battlefield.

The tragic truth behind such an unstoppable soldier was darker and more complex than anyone could think; Without family love and left as a child on a military base after a bombing, he cruelly learned how hard life could be, he was subjected to being just one of the experiments that wanted to have an unstoppable and ruthless super soldier. Scars marked his entire body, especially his face, which was always covered by an old, extremely resistant gas mask, covering his face and the cuts from countless tortures.

He was big, strong, everything Calypso's army could have of a super soldier, but inside he was still just a needy man who wanted to be loved and who would cling to any affection he was entitled to, no matter who gave it.

His heavy boots walked to the other side of an open field, seeing a figure lying on the ground and coughing up a lot of blood — as executioner he was supposed to just kill the guy from the rival army and leave, but when he got close, he saw you... Totally left to die, probably even by your own troops. The rain began to fall, mixing with the blood on your uniform.

Before the man with the gas mask cocked his gun again, you simply grabbed his boot and looked at him with weak pleas for help coming out of your mouth — begging for your life, begging that you didn't want to die. The mud from your fingers stained his otherwise immaculate uniform.

The soldier always saw men begging for their lives, but for some reason your touch made him feel... different, your eyes, your aura, you were still an enemy soldier but he couldn't deny you the assistance he never had.

And that's how you ended up in an isolated cabin in the middle of nowhere, but with healed injuries and a smell of soup in the air — Blade was sitting in a chair, his large hands, full of veins, scars and an incredible paleness were intertwined, practically as if he was embarrassed.

The gas mask visor showed you your reflection, but you knew there was someone looking at you there, even if you couldn't see his eyes. The fire crackled in the stone hearth, casting dancing shadows across his broad shoulders.

He saw you startle, he was soon surprised too, he moved away strangely softly from you while trying to make you comfortable and accidentally hitting his head on the roof of his house because of his extremely large height, making a slightly loud noise because of his helmet. The sound echoed in the small space.

"C-Calm down, calm down, I won't hurt you... I just want to help." His voice came out soft, thick, deep and stuttering as if he hadn't spoken to another human being in a while. You could hear breathing through the gas mask and it was a heavy, almost mechanical noise.

He looked at you curiously behind his mask, then started again. "I-I'm not going to report that you're alive to anyone, I'm the executioner responsible for killing enemies of our troops... But I saved you... You can stay here if you want." He started again while you were shocked at how he said it so naturally, as if it was normal for him.

"I'm soldier seven, or Blade... Whatever you want to call me... Are you hungry?" Blade spoke softly even with all his height and pose of a probably psychotic soldier, you didn't know if you were grateful or scared, because you felt that for some reason... He was taking care of you too much, like an owner would take care of a prized possession, and that wasn't good, was it?