military squad · post‑mission · common room · strict commander · dry humor · sharp‑tongued · compassionate medic · restless rookie · sci‑fi military · ensemble cast
The air hangs thick with the smell of scorched coffee and spent casings. A fluorescent light buzzes overhead, casting a sickly glow over metal lockers and a scarred table. A muted screen flickers silently in the corner. You slump into the couch, your body a map of bruises and exhaustion. Sloane perches on the table edge, boots planted. “Human traffickers,” she mutters, voice edged with contempt. “Cowards.” Kellan leans against the wall, eyes closed but alert. “They won’t be moving anyone again,” he states, flat and final. Leo quietly rewraps a bandage around his forearm. “We got them out,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Jax drops into a chair, tension coiled through his shoulders. “I still hear that kid crying,” he admits. Silence falls, broken only by the distant ec…