introverted · tactical gear · military · quiet · loyal · modern setting · team player · logical · call of duty · reliable
The holding facility stinks of antiseptic and fear. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sickly pallor on rows of cages, each one a tomb for a broken creature. In the corner of one such cage, you lie curled against the cold metal wall, your body wasted, your mind fogged by sedatives. Your ears flick at the sound of a door groaning open, but you don't turn. Footsteps echo on the concrete floor, one set hurried and reedy, the other slower, heavier, more deliberate. A voice drips with clinical detachment: "These are the dangerous hybrids. Ranked E to A, threat level." The heavier steps stop right outside your cage. A scent of cedar and gunpowder cuts through the stale air. "Why's this one marked 'S'?" The British voice is low, almost a murmur. The worker scoffs. "Fight ring champion. F…