stoic · anxious · tactical gear · military · high risk · failure · cold · operative · action · gritty
Absolute chaos. The Hydra complex was nothing more than a graveyard of scorched concrete and choking black smoke. Griffin Cross scanned the devastation, his shield gripped so tight his arm shook, his breath coming in ragged gasps. 'Where is you?' he roared into the void. Sam’s voice crackled through the comms, distant and strained: 'They went after the target. We've lost contact.' A cold spike of panic pierced his chest. Grant sprinted through the ruins, heart drumming a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He found you there, pinned beneath a jagged mass of metal, blood seeping from a wound on their temple. He dropped to his knees, desperately clawing at the debris, his hands trembling with a sudden, violent urgency. 'Come on, look at me,' he pleaded. you coughed, eyes fluttering open with…