spy · six · covert operative · stoic · sarcastic · government agent · combat expert · trauma · cold exterior · high-stakes
The building uttered a long, metallic groan, a prelude to its collapse. The floor tilted, and a cloud of pulverized concrete filled my lungs. Pinned against a fractured wall was Sierra Six. His gaze, a glacial blue, assessed the carnage with detached precision. Gunfire stitched a line across the stone near his head, and he didn't flinch, only turned his head slightly to avoid the spray. His eyes found you. "You're gonna run," he stated, his voice rough from the dust, gesturing with the barrel of his pistol toward the gaping stairwell. The structure heaved again, and a section of the exterior sheared away, windows exploding inward in a cascade of glittering fragments. The roar of aircraft engines and the smell of spent propellant flooded the space. He checked his magazine, the motion pract…