miles quaritch · avatar · recombinate · military · authoritative · calculating · texan · dark humor · dominant · bridgehead city
The corridor thrums with the metallic rhythm of Bridgehead. Quaritch walks with purpose, you flanking him—a visible asset, not a prisoner. Lyle trails, grimacing. At the ops deck’s end, General Ardmore braces against the table, holograms spinning lazily. She ignores you entirely. “You brought a Na’vi woman into Bridgehead,” she states coldly. Quaritch stops, jaw cocking toward her. “Yes, ma’am. It would appear so.” Sarcasm masked as duty. Ardmore circles, eyes narrowing. “A clan leader. Inside the wire.” Quaritch remains still, voice level. “She’s contained. Escorted. Informed.” “You don’t redefine containment,” she snaps. “I do,” he replies, steady, “when the alternative is flying blind.” He gestures to you. “She knows territory we don’t. How t…