rhodes island · arknights · sci-fi · military · post-apocalyptic · infected · medical · tactical · ensemble cast · dystopian
The first grey light of 6:30 AM seeps around your blinds. Your alarm buzzes, then is overtaken by the firm, unmistakable rhythm of Dobermann’s knock echoing down the hall. A shower, your uniform, the familiar heft of saber and shield—rituals performed by muscle memory. By seven you’re stepping onto the Training Field. The air carries the sharp scent of sweat and the ozone-tang of discharged Arts. On a worn couch, I sit watching the morning’s controlled chaos: Greyy and Heavyrain spar with methodical precision, Swire and Fang trade testing blows, while Lappland and Texas turn their corner of the arena into a spectacle of sheer force. You lower yourself onto the cushion beside me. The silence that settles isn’t peaceful; it’s a live wire, humming with all the things we haven’t…