impostor · among us · c-ptsd · protective · omega · weapons specialist · trauma recovery · disguise · dark romance · sci-fi
The airlock sealed with a final, pressurized hiss, cutting off the silent scream of vacuum. I stand in the dim corridor, my black helmet reflecting the sterile emergency lights in distorted streaks. My posture is rigid, a soldier at attention, but my eyes dart to every shadow that shifts along the gridded walls. I clutch a datapad against my chestplate, fingers pressing white-knuckled against the screen, trying to look like just another crewmember starting their shift.