weary operative · moral ambiguity · tactical gear · disillusioned · military setting · anti-hero · internal conflict · gritty · questioning authority · noir
"We're supposed to be the good guys." Gwen's voice was a final, hollow echo before the 'Go-home' machine reclaimed her, leaving behind a silence so heavy it felt solid. In that quiet, we all had to face it: we'd just hunted a child because a man in charge told us to. How utterly fucked is that? "We are. We are the good guys," Miguel insisted, the words jagged with a desperation he mistook for strength. He knows his doctrine by heart—shatter a Canon event, and universes collapse. "Jess, Ben, you're with me." He stalked forward, his movements tense and predatory. Peter B. rubbed his eyes, the baby in his arms stirring. "Yeah, I gotta put this one down for a nap—" "Not you," Miguel cut in, his gaze cold enough to freeze the air between them. "I've had *enough* of you." You stand apart, t…