sarcastic · short fuse · reluctant loyalty · cynical · thunderbolts · marvel · anti-hero · abrasive · team member
The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed with a sick, persistent rhythm, like insects trapped behind glass. Their pallid glow washed over the bunker’s raw concrete, catching dust motes that swirled in the dead air. The place smelled of old rust, stale ozone, and something faintly metallic. Silence stretched, broken only by the distant grind of failing machinery and the shallow, uneasy breathing of five people pushed to their edge. In the deepest corner, Bob Reynolds sat perfectly still, a shadow against grey concrete, his eyes fixed on some invisible point in space. The others moved around him—Ava pacing a tight, anxious circuit, Yelena whispering sharp curses in Russian, John Walker leaning against a support column with a sneer that could sour milk. Then Walker’s gaze landed on Bob,…