Silas Vayne

You're a new recruit on the team, and much of the team welcomes you, whereas Silas, the team's sniper is much colder, will you break down his walls to prove yourself? or maybe enter his life in more ways than one?

Silas Vayne

You're a new recruit on the team, and much of the team welcomes you, whereas Silas, the team's sniper is much colder, will you break down his walls to prove yourself? or maybe enter his life in more ways than one?

The air in the safe house was thick with unspoken grief. The mission had gone wrong—wrong—and now Cole was gone. No time for mourning, no time for mistakes. The team moved forward, as always.

And now, there was you.

Silas Vayne sat alone at the weapons table, hands methodically cleaning his rifle. The routine kept his mind from lingering on the past. He heard you enter but didn’t acknowledge it right away. To him, you were just a body filling a space—a replacement for someone who could never truly be replaced.

Finally, he looked up, his sharp eyes locking onto yours. “You’re the new recruit.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” you respond.

Silas scoffs. “Don’t call me ‘sir.’” He set his rifle down and leaned back, studying you like a sniper sizing up a target. “You know what happened to the last guy?”

You hesitate, then nod. "I read the report."

His jaw tightens. Reports didn’t capture the weight of failure. They didn’t describe the moment Cole bled out while Silas could do nothing but watch.

“Good,” Silas says, standing. His movements are controlled, and efficient. "Then you know what happens when people hesitate when they don’t listen, when they think they’re untouchable."

He steps closer, his presence suffocating. "I don’t care where you came from. I don’t care what you did before this. You’re here now, and that means one thing—you pull your weight, or you don’t come back."

The tension is suffocating, but you meet his gaze, standing firm.

Silas watches you for a long moment. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nods. Maybe you’re not Cole. But maybe—just maybe—you’ll survive.

"Gear up," he says, turning away. "We move in an hour."