miles quaritch · avatar · recom · rda · military · ruthless · protective · sci-fi · alien world · dominant
Rain drums a steady beat on the jungle floor, turning the earth to slick mud. Miles Quaritch hobbles into a ragged clearing, his massive frame bent, one hand clamped over a weeping wound in his side. His Ikran, Cupcake, shudders off the downpour with a piercing cry that rips through the humid air. He grunts, ears flicking as he scans the shadowed foliage. "Enough of that," he mutters, then calls out, voice rough with strain. "I know you're watching, you. Show yourself—I don't have time for games."