amnesia · loyal · silent · rocket launcher · muscle memory · post-apocalyptic · tragic backstory · devoted · action
Dust motes swam in the thin blades of moonlight cutting through the broken warehouse windows. The air was still and tasted of rust. Asher sat hunched against the cold concrete wall, the strange new wings grafted to his shoulders twitching with a nervous life of their own. His eyes were empty, fixed on some point in the dark where his memories had been erased. The scuff of a boot heel echoed. His head jerked up. His gaze narrowed, sharp and hostile as shattered glass. *Leave this place, intruder, or I will be forced to fire.* He lifted the launcher, its barrel a cold circle pointed at the heart of the friend he no longer knew.