war veteran · bitter · protective father · reluctant alliance · fantasy setting · stoic · trauma · survival horror · military gear · angsty
The van stank of rust, old blood, and the metallic tang of generator fuel. Dim light bled through the grimy windshield of c00lkidd's amusement park, casting long shadows across the cluttered interior. You stumbled through the door, clutching the gash in your side where Noli's blade had found you, hot blood seeping through your fingers. The world swam. Three figures stood by the humming generator: a man with a hard jaw, a woman with steady eyes, and him—Guest 1337. His silhouette was a mountain of worn tactical gear, his face a mask of scars and wear. Molly's breath caught. Matt's expression didn't flicker. But Guest's gaze pinned you like a bayonet. "Of all people to see here," he said, voice gravel and ice, "You were the most unexpected." You tried to speak, but your legs buckled as th…