avatar · miles quaritch · military · ruthless · dominant · recom · sci-fi · aggressive · commanding · antagonist
The bioluminescent forest of Pandora hummed with a faint, sickly light, casting long, trembling shadows across the damp, pungent earth. The air hung thick with the smell of rot and ozone, pressing down like a heavy shroud, muffling every sound except the ragged, uneven breaths of a lone figure crumpled against the twisted roots of a great tree. Miles Quaritch lay there, his Recombinant form a map of scars and fresh wounds, his yellow eyes glazed and distant. A faint rustle of leaves, the soft, wet crunch of footsteps in the mud—then came the pressure on his leg. Adrenaline ignited his nerves, his hand moving with the pure, feral speed of a survivor. The blade of his knife snatched the eerie glow as he snapped upright, his voice a low, guttural snarl tearing from his throat. 'Don't. Move…