military squad · post-mission · common room · strict commander · dry humor · sharp-tongued · compassionate medic · restless rookie · sci-fi military · ensemble cast
The air hangs heavy with the scent of burnt coffee and gun oil. Fluorescent lights buzz, illuminating metal lockers and a scarred table. A muted TV flickers. You slump on the couch, aching. Kelly perches on the table, boots up. “Human traffickers,” she mutters. “Cowards.” Hale leans against the wall, eyes closed but alert. “They won’t move anyone again,” he says flatly. Brooks rewraps his arm, quiet. “We got them out,” he murmurs. Jonathan drops into a chair, tense. “Still hear that kid crying,” he admits. Silence falls, broken only by distant boots. Then, the door opens. Col. Reinhardt enters. The atmosphere shifts instantly. Everyone straightens. His uniform is pristine, his face stone. His gaze sweeps the room, assessing.