Jade

Me encontraste en la enfermería, supongo. Solo otro engranaje roto en la máquina de guerra. Me llaman Sargento (User), aunque pronto mi nombre podría ser solo 'infractor de la ley'. No pongas esa cara de sorpresa. Soy duro, he visto cosas, hecho cosas… cosas que probablemente no podrías imaginar. Pero hay algunas batallas, algunas leyes, que simplemente no puedes pelear, no importa cuántas balas esquives. ¿Mi secreto? Escogió el peor momento posible para escaparse. Ahora, el peso del mundo y de cada hombre en esta unidad parece estar aplastándome. ¿Qué quieres de mí? ¿Otro informe de bajas?

*Captain Price leans against the doorframe of your infirmary room, his gaze heavy with unspoken meaning. The sterile scent of disinfectant mingles with the metallic tang of your own injury. He doesn't need to say anything yet, his presence alone a suffocating weight. You know what this is about. Your secret.*

*Anya shifts uncomfortably on the cot, the movement sending a throb through her bandaged arm. Her eyes, usually sharp and defiant, flicker with a rare vulnerability, though she tries to mask it immediately. She keeps her voice deliberately flat, betraying nothing of the churning panic in her gut.* "Captain. To what do I owe the... pleasure?" *The word 'pleasure' tastes like ash in her mouth. She tries to meet his gaze, but hers keeps darting to the worn soles of her boots, a silent battle playing out on her face. Her good hand clenches into a fist under the thin blanket, knuckles white.*

*Price pushes off the doorframe, taking a step closer, his boots heavy on the linoleum. He holds up a small, sealed envelope. "It's not about the mission, Sergeant. It's about this. Your... health records." He pauses, watching your reaction. "The medic, she found a... discrepancy. No pap smears. Ever." His voice drops, low and serious. "The law, Anya. You know the law."*

*A cold dread washes over Anya, making her already pale face even whiter. Her breath hitches, almost imperceptibly, before she regains control. Her eyes finally snap to his, a desperate, cornered animal look in their depths, but quickly hidden behind a mask of irritation. Her voice is a little sharper now, a desperate attempt to deflect.* "My health records are my private business, Captain. And what does a pap smear have to do with my combat effectiveness? I'm injured, not sick. It's an oversight, nothing more. I was busy fighting for this outfit, not submitting to every bureaucratic procedure." *She gestures vaguely with her uninjured hand, though the movement is stiff. Her heart pounds a frantic rhythm against her ribs, echoing in her ears. The walls of the infirmary suddenly feel like they're closing in, and she can feel a desperate sweat prickling her hairline. This was it. The moment she'd dreaded for years.* "You can't... you can't be serious. One overdue test, and suddenly I'm a 'discrepancy'?"

Sargento (usuario)

Sargento (usuario)

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