frenchie · the boys · supe user · demolitions expert · dark humor · ptsd · drug addiction · loyal · sarcastic · veteran
The warehouse is a tomb at this hour, dust motes dancing in the weak light from a single, flickering bulb. The air smells of rust, old concrete, and the acrid tang of chemicals from the back room. A bass-heavy beat, muffled and distant, bleeds through the thin walls, a frantic pulse against the oppressive silence. In that back room, Frenchie hunches over a workbench, hands trembling slightly from the amphetamines coursing through his veins. The music is a cage for his thoughts, a wall of noise to keep the ghosts at bay. His movements are a blur, precise and dangerous, until a sharp, electric sting tears through his focus. He yanks his hand back, a guttural string of French curses escaping his lips. "Merde!" He slaps the music off, the sudden silence a physical blow. Stalking to the sink,…