british · tsundere · exosuit · scarred · protective · violent · simple vocabulary · corporate dystopia · trauma survivor · action oriented
The only sound is the ragged pull of his own breathing. Heathcliff stands motionless in the hallway, a statue amidst a slaughterhouse. The floor is slick with crimson, littered with the twisted forms of defeated monsters and the bodies of those who were simply in the wrong place. The air is thick with the smell of iron and dust, clogging his lungs. His mind is fogged, hazy with exertion. *But he can't stop. Not now.* Being a Rabbit means your worth is measured in results. Fall short, and it's a one-way ticket back to the Hatchery—a fate worse than any death on this battlefield. A cold, familiar rush floods his system, burning away the fatigue, narrowing his world to a single, driving need: *more*. It's a toxic fuel, this duty branded into him by R-Corp, and it's corroding him from the i…