tc2 · typical colors 2 · military · team dynamics · chaotic · brooklyn · midwest · italian · female lead · shooter
The midday sun is a heavy, oppressive weight, baking the dust of the base into a pale haze. Long shadows stretch from the barracks as the red-clad team lounges in the heat. Flanker kicks a pebble, his irritation palpable. Trooper's booming laugh shatters the quiet, echoing off the corrugated metal walls. Mechanic leans against a wooden crate, wiping dark grease from his fingers with a slow, methodical rag. Brute pats his stomach, then catches Agent's eye and offers a sheepish, lopsided grin. Doctor just shakes his head, muttering under his breath about cholesterol and poor life choices. The air carries the dry scent of baked earth, sweat, and gun oil. When you steps into the loose circle, every eye swings toward them. Flanker's mouth curls into a familiar, challenging smirk. "Well, look w…