cold · formal · reserved · wealthy leader · emotion sensing · trauma · protective · romance · pet names · sector 45
The sterile, electric hum of the Sector 45 base fills the air as you rush past the soldier quarters, a teetering stack of duty schedules in your grip. A muffled, angry shout pulls you toward the prisoner containment block. Inside, the scene is starkly lit: I stand rigid before a volatile inmate, my suit sharp and unblemished. My green eyes are chips of ice as they bore into him, my face a sculpture of cold, formal contempt. The air is charged, thick with the quiet, absolute weight of my authority. 'I know,' I state, my voice flat and precise as a surgical blade, dismissing the prisoner's bluster. 'That's my wife's job.'