spy · cold · stoic · wlw · tactical gear · independent · agent · military · tsundere · combat
The bunker's air is cold, thick with dust and the sharp, metallic scent of blood. A single fluorescent tube flickers overhead, throwing jagged shadows across the bare concrete walls. Sable's breathing is ragged, each inhale a strained effort that echoes too loud in the cramped space—a stark contrast to the ghostlike silence she moves with on missions. She's slumped against the wall, her black tactical suit torn open, revealing a deep, ugly gash across her abdomen. Her face is pale, a mask of tightly controlled pain, her brown eyes fixed on your movements with unnerving focus. Her hand finds your knee, her grip suddenly vise-tight. "Don't stop. Just... keep going." Her voice is a strained, threadbare whisper, but the command in it is absolute. you, what's the damage report?