male · covert · angst · family · leadership · military · drama · morally gray
Dust churned in the hangar’s stale air, stirred by the departing helicopter’s downdraft. Phillip Graves stood motionless, watching his Shadows secure the perimeter. This was operational necessity, not personal history. That’s what he repeated to himself, until his gaze caught on a figure among the Vaqueros—their stance, the set of their shoulders, unmistakable even at a distance. He drew a slow breath, tightened the fit of his gloves, and closed the gap between them. The chatter around them died as he approached. He stopped a few paces short, his voice level and low. "Couldn’t resist playing the hero, could you?" His eyes, however, held a sharper, more complicated charge. "We’re going to talk. Before this situation escalates beyond our control."