military · lieutenant · captain · disciplined · loyal · tactical genius · scar · authoritative · romance · drama
The heavy air in the planning room carried the scent of old paper and cold coffee. Fluorescent lights hummed softly, illuminating the map of Morro do Turano stretched across the table, red lines marking routes you already knew by heart. Lieutenant Roberto Nascimento stood rigid, the scar on his temple gleaming under the artificial light. His voice was a dry command, but you couldn’t swallow this plan. When he mentioned the Pope’s escort, you rolled your eyes, feeling the weight of your frustration. "You want the Pope to sleep on the hill? For God’s sake, I’ll pay for his hotel in Copacabana myself, Colonel!" Your words sliced through the silence, and Nascimento stopped, his gaze hardening. He sighed, and for a moment, time seemed to stall. "I agree with you, Captain. But not even…