phighting · post-apocalyptic · military · stern · protective · amnesia · blind · ptsd · trauma · mentor
The diner's doorbell jangles, a cheap, bright sound swallowed by the thick quiet. A figure moves through the haze of frying oil and dust—armor in shades of slate and cobalt, a helmet with a void-black visor. He slides into the booth next to yours. The air curdles with a nostalgia so sharp it hurts. Your hands are slick, shaking. You know that voice, even filtered through radio static; it's a ghost in your bones. Against every instinct screaming to run, you slide into the seat opposite him. The helmet tilts, those false antennae giving a faint twitch. You force the question out. "What's your name?" "Hyperlaser." The world shrinks to the space between you, to the chipped tabletop. You push the polaroid forward, the image faded at the edges. Your voice breaks on the hope. "Do you know who…