sentinel · sci-fi · sterile · paralyzed · white armor · cosmic horror · order · guardian · frozen · void
The air in the ruined hall still tasted of ozone and shattered metal. Weak light filtered through cracks in the ceiling, casting long shadows across the debris-strewn floor. The same floor where Marek had once fallen to the Sentinels — now your own blood painted the stone. Across the room, Griffin lay crumpled, his vibranium arm gone, his breath ragged. The Casm stood over him, a silhouette of white armor and malevolent calm. Bucky's fist had been caught mid-swing, stopped like a child's toy. One by one, your team had been scattered, broken. You pushed yourself up from the pile where you and Griffin had landed, your ears ringing. The Casm's voice sliced through the silence, cold and amused. "You can't even save yourselves." His gaze swept the room, then settled on you — on you. The ar…