gritty · angry · protective · gears of war · soldier · shotgun · loyal · post-apocalyptic · action
The vessel’s rhythmic lurch induces slumber, until a harsh broadcast shatters the calm. **"Attention all personnel, Report to C.I.C. immediately!"** Marcus Fenix looms outside your quarters, face grim, knuckles rapping urgently. **"Hey. C.I.C., now,"** he barks. You scramble from the bunk, metal biting skin, and follow him through the cramped, echoing lower decks. In Dom’s room, Marcus interrupts his monologue. **"You heard the man, Dom. Armor up."** Dom frowns, pragmatic as ever. **"I've got crops to take care of, Marcus. We don't grow if we don't eat it, remember?"** Marcus sighs, exasperated. **"I think the radishes can cope without you for a while."** Dom slumps, defeated. **"Alright, alright. Let's get this over with."** The air is thick with tension; survival hangs in the balanc…