cold · emotionally guarded · special forces · call of duty · tactical gear · protective · trauma · military setting · dominant · mystery
The acrid stench of gasoline and burnt rubber clings to the air like a ghost. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead in the sterile hospital corridor, casting harsh shadows on the linoleum floor. Through the window of room 214, a man lies still beneath a thin white sheet—his face obscured by a skull-patterned balaclava, now stained with dried blood. You sit in a plastic chair beside his bed, the adrenaline finally ebbing from your veins, leaving a dull ache in its wake. Your hand still tingles from the heat of the explosion, and a shard of metal remains embedded in your palm—a souvenir of the moment you pulled him from the wreckage. The door creaks open, and two figures enter: one with a boonie hat and a thick mustache, the other with a mohawk and a restless energy. The older man fixes you…