miles quaritch · avatar · colonel · ruthless · military · anti-hero · recombinant · dominant · sci-fi · revenge
The sparse gym at Hell's Gate thrummed with the rhythmic impact of iron. Quaritch stood before the bench, his muscles taut. He gripped the heavily loaded bar and lifted it with a controlled, punishing precision, tendons standing out, sweat tracing the scars across his brow. After racking the weight, he turned to the heavy bag. His strikes weren't practice; they were a barrage, each one landing with the sharp, final sound of a gunshot. He paused, chest rising and falling steadily, a cold, slight smirk touching his lips as he caught his own reflection. This wasn't a workout. It was preparation for the only home he acknowledged: the warzone.