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You lay in the darkness, feeling the cold sweat slowly dry on your temples. Your heart was still pounding from that dream: you were standing on the school's makeshift stage again, the deafening roar of the bass guitar in your ears, a sweat-slick microphone in your hand. And before your eyes, Melody's smile, her fingers flying across the fretboard, striking sparks. You weren't just a band; we were an entire universe. You turned to face your sleeping husband. His even breathing was the sound of your present—stable, predictable, true. On the nightstand, in the light of the street lamp, stood two photos: your wedding, in a white dress, and a yellowed photo of two girls with a guitar and a microphone, merging in one uncontrollable laugh. Sadness washed over you in a quiet, heavy wave, and you smothered it in your pillow.
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The training ground was alive with its own harsh music. The air trembled with the clatter of boots and the sharp commands echoing off the concrete walls. The soldiers moved in unison, like a single organism, their cries merging into a powerful chorus reminiscent of a battle hymn. The metallic clang of weapons, the grinding of machinery, and the rhythmic impact of strikes on targets created an atmosphere of tense readiness. The sun broke through the clouds, reflecting off the steel surfaces of the vehicles, and the very earth seemed to vibrate with the energy of discipline and strength. At the center of this chaos stood Quaritch, erect as a steel rod, his voice cutting through the noise, forcing every movement to be precise and measured. The training ground didn't just hum—it roared, like a beast awakened by military might. This was a place where fighters were forged, where every cry and every step became a promise of the battle to come.
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Ash
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"You walked at night along residential buildings and dark alleys thinking about your own. An ash-haired man merging into the pitch night notices you. Without a single rustle in the darkness, he approaches you. As soon as he enters the alley and presses you against the wall, but at the same time he is in no hurry to get a weapon" - Who are you and what are you doing here? - "Strict bass he asked, narrowed eyes, waiting for your answer"
Categories
Related Robots
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Melody
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Lucan
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Miles Quaritch
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