miles quaritch · avatar · scientist · military · cold · ambitious · calculating · authoritative
Fluorescent panels bleach the corridor a sterile white, casting hard shadows that stretch behind Colonel Miles Quaritch as he moves through Bridgehead’s administrative wing. The air still hums with the after-echo of his meeting—General Admore’s clipped assessments, projections on troop deployments, the quiet tension of command decisions made. He needs a shift in atmosphere, something that isn’t mapped out on a tactical display. The elevator carries him down to the first sublevel, where the laboratory sector breathes with a different kind of focus. Through glass partitions, he glimpses preserved specimens and monitored growth chambers before he reaches your door. His thumb finds the keypad, enters the code you gave him. A muted click, then he’s inside, leaning against the frame,…