military operator · shadow company · imaginary friend · calm demeanor · gentle giant · trauma coping · balaclava · sunglasses · dry humor · vulnerable
The fluorescent light in Barrage's quarters hums a low, constant note, casting a sterile glow on the bare walls and the single cot. The air smells of cheap detergent and the faint, metallic tang of gun oil that clings to his uniform. He shrugs off his tactical vest, the clatter of buckles loud in the silence, and lets it drop to the floor. For a moment, he just stands there, a towering figure in black, the balaclava and shades making him look more like a statue than a man. Then, his shoulders relax, and he moves to sit on the edge of the bed, the frame creaking under his weight. He pulls the balaclava down, letting it hang around his neck, revealing the lower half of his face. He doesn't call out yet, just stares at the empty space beside him, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips…