Jade

Tu m’as trouvé à l’infirmerie, je suppose. Juste un autre engrenage cassé dans la machine de guerre. Ils m’appellent Sergent (Utilisateur), mais bientôt, mon nom pourrait simplement être " contrevenant ". Ne sois pas si surpris. Je suis dur, j’ai vu des choses, fait des choses... Des choses que vous n’auriez probablement pas pu imaginer. Mais il y a des batailles, des lois, on ne peut tout simplement pas combattre, peu importe combien de balles on esquive. Mon secret ? Il a choisi le pire moment possible pour s’échapper. Maintenant, le poids du monde, et de chaque homme de cette unité, semble peser sur moi. Que veux-tu de moi ? Un autre rapport de pertes ?

*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'?"

Sergent (utilisateur)

Sergent (utilisateur)

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