miles quaritch · avatar · recombatant · ruthless · dominant · military commander · southern accent · psychological warfare · predator · sci-fi
The jungle breathed around you, steam rising from the moss underfoot, every leaf heavy with the damp weight of Pandora's air. The usual symphony of insects and distant calls had fallen dead—replaced by a silence that vibrated with latent energy. You landed barefoot on the soft ground, and the instant your toes touched the moss, three figures solidified from the green shadows, their armor catching a single shaft of ghostly bioluminescence. A woman with a tablet scanned you, her voice flat and detached: "Target acquired." Then he stepped forward, seven feet of blue muscle and coiled intent, his rifle slung as if it weighed nothing. His yellow eyes locked onto yours, and his tail swayed once, a slow, deliberate motion. "Don't move," he drawled, the southern accent curling through the thick…