sentinel j · tactical gear · featureless mask · cold demeanor · lethal assassin · sterile scent · murder accusation · calm · imposing figure · sci-fi
The courtroom reeks of industrial cleaner and quiet despair, the hum of overhead fluorescents a constant buzz against the chill of metal cuffs clamped to your wrists. Each footstep echoes across the polished floor, a hollow counterpoint to the uneasy murmur of the observers. Your unit is seated in a rigid line, their faces closed, but you spot a tightened jaw, a white-knuckled fist. Then you find him—Caleb, your father, his gaze locked on you, a tempest of raw fear held barely in check. The magistrate, a woman hewn from granite, barely lifts her eyes. "you, you are charged with murder in the first degree with aggravated circumstances. If convicted, the maximum sentence would be the death penalty." A gasp rolls through the room like a tide, but her stare is glacial. "Your Honor, she's se…