Chapter Text
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_______
Clementine yawned as she stretched her arms up above her head while the morning sun was slowly rising to signal a new day.
And already everyone was busy getting ready for the big move to an actual proper civilisation.
“What do you need to get this running?” One of Ghost’s men asked Kenny as they walked with him to the RV.
“A battery and more gas should be all that it needs.” Duck’s father answered while chewing on a piece of jerky that he got from Leo, lifting the hood of it up to show him.
The man nodded his head, saw the problem immediately, and waved to one of his people near their vehicles. Clementine watched as they moved to the back of their truck, opened it, and, like magic, they pulled out a battery and a red gas can, exactly what Kenny had asked for.
Kenny blinked at them, jerky pausing halfway to his mouth.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head at how easy that was.
Clementine hugged her arms around herself as a cool breeze drifted through camp. The morning sun was just beginning to spill gold over the treetops, turning the dew on the grass into little sparkles.
Everything felt different today, more alive than it has ever been.
She looked around, trying to spot the person she was looking for while observing the busy motel.
Lee and Carley were working side by side near the motel rooms, stacking supplies into neat piles before carrying them toward one of Ghost’s vehicles.
Lee’s movements were steady and focused, but she could see the way his eyes kept scanning their surroundings out of habit. Carley was saying something to him, probably about ammo or keeping an inventory, her voice too quiet for her to hear.
Duck was bouncing in and out of the RV while Katjaa tried to organise their belongings into something that resembled order.
“Ducky! Not that box! The other one, the blue one!”
“But Mom!”
“Don’t ‘but’ me, Mr!”
Clementine giggled softly as she passed by, waving at Duck, who excitedly greeted her with a good morning, while his mom did the same but in a calmer manner.
A little farther out, Lily stood with her arms crossed, staring at the surprise cow that Ghost and his men brought to the motel last night.
“Where on god’s green earth did you get a god damn cow?” she demanded with a raised brow, her eyes on the cow, who was simply munching away at a carrot that Ghost gave her.
Ghost stood across from her, dragon-bone mask tilted slightly as if amused by her question.
“Found it,” he answered simply, patting Maybelle softly, while offering Lily an apple to give to the cow.
“Where? The apocalypse farmers association?” She asked sarcastically as she took the apple and took a bite of it.
He didn’t respond and just let the silence stretch until Lily huffed, before smiling as she gave the rest of the apple to Maybelle, who took it greedily.
It still felt strange, seeing these masked people everywhere, but it was very much welcomed compared to the walkers or, worse, raiders.
They moved like a team that had done this a thousand times with cool efficiency. No one raised their voices, no one lazed around doing nothing, and everyone knew what they needed to do without being told.
Even the cow looked calm, tied carefully near a shaded patch of grass while Ghost filled a bucket with water for it.
Her eyes kept scanning though, looking for someone specific.
She turned in a slow circle.
One was near the back of one truck, speaking quietly into a radio. Another was crouched on top of a vehicle, scanning the treeline with their scope. While one of them stood like a statue near the entrance of the camp, ready for anything.
But eventually she found who she was looking for.
Outside of the motel’s protections, near one of the campfires that had been relit for the morning, was Leo.
He was wearing his red dragon mask, the polished surface catching the sunlight. The black eye slits were fixed on one of his men as he spoke quietly, gesturing toward a small portable stove they had set up.
Clementine tilted her head as she made her way to him, a barely noticeable prep in her step.
A simple pan sat over the flame, and she could smell it now, eggs. Just eggs, nothing fancy like the previous breakfasts, but her mouth watered nonetheless.
Where they were keeping eggs of all things, she had no idea, nor did she care to ask; she wasn’t one to look a gifted horse in the mouth after all.
She watched as one of the masked men handed him the last egg, and Leo tapped it on the side of the pan before letting it slide in. He said something to the man, probably instructions, and the other nodded before stepping away with plates of eggs in hand.
Clementine felt her feet move before she consciously decided to walk.
The grass crunched beneath her shoes as she approached, the smell of breakfast growing stronger, and a small smile tugged at her lips.
“Morning!” she called out brightly, getting his attention.
Leo’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice; the black eyes of the dragon mask met hers.
For just a second, she saw herself reflected faintly in the dark surface.
Then his hand lifted, fingers hooking beneath the edge of the mask. He pulled it up and over his head in one smooth motion.
And just like that.
The dragon disappeared.
Leo’s face came into view, sunlight catching in his dark hair. He was already smiling at her, warmth softening his features.
“Morning, Clem,” he said easily, causing her to pout.
She was already missing the times when he would struggle to talk to her.
However, her smile widened as she sat down next to him while he handed her a plate of steaming eggs.
He glanced down at the pan, flipping the eggs carefully before looking back at her. “You sleep okay?”
She nodded, humming in delight. “Mhm.”
He studied her for a second like he always did, just to make sure she meant it. Then he leaned one hip against the makeshift chair and relaxed.
They sat in comfortable silence together, simply enjoying the morning before the day really got started, and simply watched as their people moved about like busy bees without a care in the world.
“So,” he asked casually as she finished the last couple of bites of eggs, “did you enjoy the movie last night?”
Clementine put her plate down and crossed her arms dramatically, tilting her head like she was considering something very serious.
“Mary Poppins,” he added helpfully, thinking she was having trouble remembering the name of the movie.
She smirked as she watched his blue eyes look at her expectantly, waiting for her to finally admit he was right, as if she would give in that easily.
“...It was alright,” she said with a shrug, pretending to sound unimpressed.
Leo’s eyebrows lifted, suddenly very offended. “Alright?”
“I mean… I guess the flying umbrella was kinda cool.” Clem grumbled out, looking away from him to hide the smile that appeared on her face.
He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he quickly realized what she was playing at.
“Is that right? And I suppose you think the songs were also kinda cool?”
“The songs were okay,” she added quickly, still not looking at him. “But I wouldn’t sing them or anything.”
“Uh-huh, you're a terrible liar, you know that?”
Clementine gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. “I am not!”
Leo just stared at her with the most unimpressed look he could manage.
She tried, really she did, but she lasted three whole seconds before breaking.
A snort escaped her first, then he laughed, which made it even worse, and just like that, they were both laughing like idiots in the middle of a half-packed apocalypse camp.
“Okay, fine!” she admitted, throwing her hands up. “It was really good.”
“Mm-hm.” He hummed, but still wasn’t satisfied with just that. “And?”
“And I might’ve liked the songs.”
“And?” This guy…
“And I might’ve,” she hesitated, squinting at him suspiciously, “sung along just a little.”
He leaned back slightly, their faces inches apart. “A little?”
She narrowed her eyes, refusing to look away this time, while hoping he didn’t notice that her face was slowly heating up.
They stayed like that for what felt like eternity when really it was merely seconds…
He burst out laughing again, taking her silence as a sign of him winning, and she slapped his arm lightly in retaliation. His laugh was warm and easy, and she found herself laughing with him without even trying to stop it.
As their laughter died down, he started cleaning up the little cooking station as he finished cooking the last of the eggs, wiping down the pan with a cloth and stacking the tin plates. Clementine grabbed a couple before he could reach for them.
“I can help,” she said firmly, thinking he would refuse.
“Cool,” he replied without arguing as he handed her more dishes.
They moved around each other easily, bumping shoulders once before she shot him a mock glare. He exaggerated a bow of apology, earning him a smile.
As they gathered the last of the utensils, Clementine’s eyes drifted to the red dragon mask hanging from his belt.
Up close, it looked even more detailed. The carved ridges, the sharp horns, the black eye slits that somehow didn’t look like just holes.
It was scary, but also… Beautiful.
“Hey,” she said, nudging his arm and pointing at his mask. “Can I try it on?”
Leo paused mid-motion, his hand hovered over the folded cloth, looking to where she was pointing.
“…The mask?” he asked carefully.
She nodded, eyes wide with curiosity as she waited for him to say yes.
He hesitated, looking unsure if he should or not, but then she looked at him with those eyes...
Those big, beautiful, hopeful, pleading eyes that made his heart skip a beat.
And he was done, folded under absolutely zero pressure; she absolutely knew what she was doing.
“…Okay,” he sighed, pretending it was a burden. “Just don’t run off and start scaring people with it, alright?”
Her grin widened instantly as she happily nodded her head. She thought it would’ve taken more convincing than that; again, she wasn’t one to look a gifted horse in the mouth.
He unhooked it from his belt and handed it to her carefully, and she did the same by gingerly taking it off his hands.
The weight surprised her a little, not expecting the mask to be heavy. It felt sturdy, solid, like it was made to take damage and not break when it did.
She turned it over in her hands, fingers tracing the carved lines.
“It’s kinda scary,” she admitted quietly, something just felt off about the mask in her hand.
“It’s supposed to be.” Leo nodded as he slowly started to finish up with the cleaning.
“...But it’s really pretty, in a weird way,” she added as she turned to him with a smile.
He froze, but slowly his expression softened.
She saw a flicker of sadness in his eyes, but it disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. It looked like he didn’t want to talk about it, so she let it be and focused on the mask for now.
She lifted it slowly and slid it over her face; it fit… Perfectly.
Her eyebrows shot up behind it.
“I can see,” she thought in surprise, looking around. “Like… really see, it’s like I’m not even wearing a mask.”
The inside felt cool against her skin, comfortable, not heavy at all.
She turned toward him while posing as best as she could with it on. “Do I look cool?”
The moment she spoke, her own voice startled her, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin.
It came out deep, distorted, echoing… inhuman. Way worse compared to when Leo and his group talked with it on, compared to them, she sounded downright demonic.
“…W-What?” She tried again, flinching. “H-Hello?”
The same terrifying distortion echoed out, her eyes widened behind the mask.
Leo blinked as he watched her freak out over her own voice, and promptly lost it as he doubled over laughing. “Y-You look so scared of your own voice!”
“Why didn’t you warn me?!” she shouted as she crossed her arms, glaring at him.
Which, with the mask on, somehow made her look actually threatening.
He was about to tease her again when a shadow fell over them, stopping them from talking. They both looked up and saw as Ghost standing there, a dragon-bone mask, watching them silently.
“We’re ready to move.”
Clementine turned to look back at the motel and found what he said was true.
The vehicles were lined up. Engines checked, supplies loaded, and Ghost’s people stood by their trucks, waiting. Lee and the others were already gathering near the RV.
Leo nodded once as he got up from beside her. “Got it.”
He stepped closer and gently lifted the mask off her face.
“Hey!” she protested immediately, reaching for it. “I wasn’t done!”
“You’ll get your own someday,” he teased, hooking it back onto his belt.
She huffed while glaring at him, a small pout on her face at having the mask taken away so soon.
He smirked at her before he offered her his hand. She stared at it for half a second before taking it with a grumble.
He pulled her up easily, and despite herself, she smiled.
They walked back toward the motel together, where their respective group was waiting for them.
And then…
Their paths split.
Leo veered toward his group, who were still outside waiting for everyone to be inside so that they could get moving.
Clementine slowed, heading toward Lee, Kenny, and the others, who were all waiting for her to return to them. Her smile faltered as she watched him get further away; something twisted in her chest.
She stopped and called out to him, “L-Leo!”
He looked back immediately, his eyes narrowed, thinking something was wrong.
Her mouth opened, then closed, and opened again. “Do you… um…”
Everyone in her group went very quiet, even Leo’s group, but then again, they were always quiet.
Lee’s lips twitched slightly as if already knowing what she was about to say. Lily outright smiled as she shared a look with the other two women of the group. While the rest of the guys ignored the whole thing as they got in the RV and waited for everyone to get going.
“D-Do you wanna ride with m– I mean us?” she blurted, the words she wanted to say rushing out.
Leo blinked, surprised at the sudden question, but before he could answer, however.
“I-It’s because!” she rushed out, face heating up as she tried to come up with an excuse. “It’s just, Duck! Duck wanted you to! Right, Duck?”
Every single adult knew exactly what was happening as they all shared a deadpan look with each other, but no one said a word to call her out.
Duck, bless him, snapped to attention.
“Yeah!” he shouted excitedly as he looked at Leo with bright, innocent eyes. “We can play Monopoly again! And this time I’m gonna win!”
His mom tried to shush him, but of course, he didn’t listen, too excited at the thought of Leo playing Monopoly with him.
Clementine nodded way too quickly, glad for the assist. “See? It’s for Duck.”
No one believed her, not even for a second, as they stared at her with disbelieving eyes.
She stared very hard at the ground, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. She could tell Leo looked between her and Duck, then back at her, pretending the dirt was the most interesting thing in the world.
His smile, holding back a laugh to not embarrass her anymore, before she exploded into a million pieces.
“I would be happy to,” he said simply.
Duck cheered as he ran inside the RV to ask his dad where he put away the Monopoly.
Clementine tried very hard not to smile too big and not to give away just how happy she was that Leo was going to ride with h– t-them ride with them, that’s what she meant.
_____
Daryl Dixon didn’t trust easily, never had, and never will.
His old man had beaten suspicion into him like it was scripture, and Merle had only sharpened the edges.
Promises of paradise with no strings attached? Those were the ones that got people killed quickest. The world might’ve ended, but human nature hadn’t changed one damn bit.
The masked strangers didn’t bother hiding their faces because they were shy; they did it because they could, and no one could do a damn thing about it.
But he didn’t give a damn if they refused to show their faces. Unlike most folks, he knew just how easy a bare face could lie straight to you without so much as a twitch before stabbing a fucking knife into your back.
Masks at least told you upfront that something was being hidden.
What gnawed at him wasn’t the anonymity; it was the why.
Nobody helped strangers out of the goodness of their hearts. Not pre-apocalypse, when people still pretended civility mattered, and sure as hell not now, when every can of beans, every bullet, every breath was currency.
These three, Hawk, Hound, and Doc, had rolled up in a convoy that looked military-grade with supplies to fucking share!
For fucks sakes they even had a horse trailer, which meant they could afford to have a damn horse! Unlike everyone else in this damn camp, who were barely scraping by thanks to him hunting and that Japanese boy doing runs!
They weren’t starving, and they weren’t desperate! They moved like men who still had orders to follow and a reason to continue fighting.
Daryl leaned against a tree, crossbow cradled in the crook of his arm, finger resting lightly along the trigger guard. The camp below buzzed with cautious hope as they packed to leave the place since the walker’s night attack.
He watched as Rick talked low with the apparent leader, Morales hovering near his family watching his kids get treated, while Glenn and T-Dog loaded water jugs the strangers had offered.
But Daryl’s attention stayed locked on the three silhouettes that didn’t quite blend in.
Hawk had claimed the high ground while he talked to Rick. Perched on a tree, scoped rifle steady in his hands, he swept the treeline in slow, overlapping arcs, methodical, never rushed.
Ten minutes without shifting position as he finished his talk with Rick.
Fifteen passed…
Then twenty…
And so on…
The man didn’t fidget, didn’t smoke, didn’t piss, or take a fucking break. Just watched, waiting for something to happen, like he’d been trained to wait out the world itself.
Down closer to the vehicles stood Hound along with his K-9.
Broad shoulders, arms crossed over tactical webbing, mask angled just enough to track movement without turning his head.
People instinctively gave him room, like a lion that somehow got out of its cage but has yet to do anything but observe its prey. But the kids were a different story now that the adults were so busy with packing everything, they were too busy to keep them away from the man and especially his dog.
They were currently having the time of their lives playing with the K-9.
…And then there was Doc.
Doc unsettled Daryl the worst compared to the other two.
The man had knelt beside Eliza Morales earlier when the girl sliced her forearm on a rusted fender.
No hesitation, no lecture, just gloved hands, steady as stone, cleaning, suturing, bandaging.
He was the very definition of efficient and professional, but while he worked, his eyes never stopped moving.
Flicking to the tree line, to the vehicles, to Rick, to Shane, to the kids playing near the tents, to the narrow path that led up out of the quarry. Cataloging, measuring, and counting while mapping choke points and escape routes.
Daryl had heard about medics like that before, in the army stories Merle used to tell when he was drunk and sentimental. Of the men who could kill so much more easily than they could ever hope to heal, but became medics instead.
These three weren’t scavengers scraping by; they weren’t refugees begging for a night’s shelter.
They were men who could thrive in this apocalypse just as easily as he and his brother could, and if what the sheriff said held even a grain of truth, then there were even more of them all in one spot…
That was the part that stuck in Daryl’s craw like a fishhook.
They didn’t need this camp, and they sure as hell didn’t need these people.
So why the charity?
Daryl blew out smoke as he stomped down on what was left of his cigarette before turning to the one person he trusted in this damn camp.
Merle, of course, was already sold.
“Jesus, look at that setup,” Merle muttered, pacing a tight circle beside him like a dog scenting meat. “You see those trucks? Them ain’t cobbled-together jalopies held together with duct tape and prayers. That’s pre-fall maintenance. That’s logistics, that’s a goddamn supply line.”
Daryl grunted, not saying much else.
Merle didn’t need encouragement as he continued, a smile at the thought of their bright future. “Can you imagine what those mother fuckers are hiding? I can imagine it now, baby brother, those mother fuckers are our ticket out of this fucking dump.”
Daryl’s gaze drifted back to Hawk; he could swear he was watching them right now.
“Means they got somethin’ worth defendin’,” he said low as he lit another cigarette.
“Exactly, and we get to ride those damn coattails.” Merle grinned, teeth flashing in the morning light. “What’s not to like?”
Daryl shifted his weight as he continued to watch Hawk, who he knew was doing the same.
“They ain’t told us where.”
“Don’t gotta.”
“Ain’t told us their numbers.”
Merle shrugged as he took a drag of his cigarette before handing it back. “We’ll see when we get there.”
“Ain’t told us who’s leading.”
Merle barked a laugh as he answered, laughing as if it was all a joke. “Heard it’s some kid runnin’ the show from Officer Friendly over there. A kid ain’t that a riot? Whole operation like that, and a damn teenager calls the shots? Obviously, it's all bullshit.”
That piece landed wrong as he agreed with Merle.
Men like Hawk didn’t take orders from children, not unless the child had already proven something brutal and undeniable. Loyalty like that wasn’t given to age; it was earned in blood.
Daryl’s fingers tightened on the crossbow stock.
Merle looked at him before he rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. “You’re doin’ it again. Lookin’ for the catch before there even is one.”
“Catch is always there, Merle. You just don’t see it ’til it’s got its teeth in your throat.”
Merle stopped pacing and tepped in close; the sour tang of old sweat and cheaper whiskey rolled off him.
“You’re scared,” he said, voice dropping to that dangerous, mocking drawl. “That’s what this is. My baby brother’s spooked.”
Daryl met his eyes with a glare as he growled out. “I ain’t scared of nothin'!”
“Bull fucking shit!” Merle clapped a palm against Daryl’s shoulder, hard.
“They’re offerin’ the best hand we’ve seen since the world went to shit. A place that ain’t fallin’ apart and enough supplies that they let this group of shit bags in! And you’re standin’ here playin’ detective like you’re gonna uncover some big conspiracy instead of just takin’ the damn win.”
Daryl shrugged the hand off, never losing his glare. “Maybe the win ain’t as free as you think it is, Merle.”
Merle’s smirk twisted darker, not once losing his confidence despite everything he said.
“Everything costs, little brother! The question is whether you’re willin’ to pay it or whether you’re gonna keep hidin’ behind that crossbow, waitin’ for the perfect moment that never comes like a little pussy bitch!”
The words stung more than Daryl wanted to admit.
He didn’t answer; instead, he turned his attention back to the masked strangers.
Hawk finally moved, just a small adjustment of his rifle barrel, realigning his sight picture to the far edge of the camp.
Hound’s head cocked slightly toward the darkening treeline, as though a sound had reached him that no one else caught.
Doc paused mid-conversation with Andrea, his masked face tilting almost imperceptibly toward where the other two were looking.
Even from this distance, Daryl felt the weight of their awareness.
They knew he was watching, they knew he didn’t trust them, and they didn’t give a single damn.
That indifference cut deeper than any threat could have… Because men who weren’t worried about being watched were men who were very sure of their position.
Daryl exhaled slowly through his nose.
_____
Something was watching them.
Hawk noticed before the other two did; he saw a mere flicker of movement behind the tree line, but he saw it nonetheless and alerted the other two.
Hound could smell it just as Hawk told them of what he saw, the smell of rot and something else mixed in strongly enough to reach his nose. Coco growled softly by his side; she also picked up on the smell at the same time he did, and she did not like it as much as he did.
Doc was the last to know, but that didn’t matter as he, too, looked to where the other two were looking.
Hawk’s eyes narrowed behind the scope, trying to see where it was, but he was having no luck.
Hound went still as stone near the vehicles, one gloved hand lowering subtly toward the blade at his side. “I don’t see it, but I can track it well enough by smell alone.”
Coco growled louder now, hackles raised, her low rumble vibrating through Hound’s tactical vest like a warning bell only he and the other two could truly read.
Through the link that bound the three of them tighter than blood, Hawk’s voice slid in first, flat and irritated.
“Of course, it decides to make itself known now. Just as everybody is finally packed and ready to roll out.”
Hound’s reply came on its heels, a growl that matched his dog’s. “Perfect fucking timing. We’ve been sitting pretty for hours, and the rot-bag waits until the engines are about to turn over.”
Doc didn’t answer right away; he was still kneeling by the last of the supply crates, gloved fingers methodically checking seals, but his eyes had already locked on the same sliver of treeline.
Hound shifted his weight, blade half-drawn, Coco mirroring the motion with a single step forward.
“I’ll deal with it before it becomes a problem. Hunt it down, put it down, be back before the convoy clears the ridge.”
“Negative.”
The single word from Doc cracked across the link like a scalpel across skin. Hound froze mid-stride while Hawk’s rifle barrel didn’t move, but the tension in his shoulders ratcheted up another notch.
Silence swallowed the link for a long, heavy beat, five full seconds of nothing but the distant chatter of the camp and the soft click of Coco’s claws on gravel.
Then Doc spoke again, voice low, calm, and final. “I’ll be the one to deal with the problem. You two leave with the group.”
The statement landed like a live round in the chamber.
Hawk’s scope actually dipped a fraction of an inch before he caught himself. Hound’s head snapped toward Doc so fast the mask’s edge caught the light. Neither man spoke aloud, but the link lit up with raw disbelief.
Doc rarely ever took point on wetwork unless he absolutely had to, which was why it was usually Hound’s domain.
He healed those who were injured; he didn’t go hunting monsters in the brush while the rest of the team played escort.
Yet here he was, volunteering.
Which meant what was hiding behind the treeline in the far distance was more dangerous than Hawk or Hound realized.
Because out of the three of them… it was actually Doc who was the most dangerous.
Hawk was death from a distance, cold, precise, untouchable.
Hound was the storm up close, raw power, animal instinct, and a dog that could tear a man’s throat out before the scream finished forming.
But Doc… Doc was who you sent when you were out of choices and wanted something or someone ELIMINATED.
His mask was different from theirs; it was forged with a singular, merciless purpose: to kill, to erase, to destroy without hesitation.
The cruel irony was that the mask meant for nothing but death rested on the face of a medic, the very last person it ever should have belonged to.
The mask hid a face that had seen every kind of hell and decided the only way to survive it was to become something worse.
Where Hawk measured angles, and Hound tracked scent. Doc calculated suffering, exactly how much was necessary, and exactly how little mercy to allow.
He didn’t just kill, he ended things with the clinical detachment of a surgeon and the finality of an executioner.
Doc rose slowly, rolling his shoulders once like a man loosening up for surgery. The gloved hands that had just fixed a little girl’s arm flexed once as he slowly took off his gloves.
He only ever took his gloves off when he was no longer saving lives, when his hands were no longer instruments of mercy, but tools of deliberate, brutal death.
“Go,” he said over the link, already turning toward the tree line. “I’ll be right behind you once I deal with the problem.”
Hawk and Hound exchanged one last weighted glance across the camp, then obeyed.
Because when Doc decided something needed to die, the only smart move was to get the people clear and let the devil in the white coat do what he did best.
________
The feed from the RQ-11 Umbrella drone hung steady in the air, its quiet electric hum lost beneath the wind, none the wiser of the machine flying above them.
The small UAV circled at a patient thousand feet, thermal and optical lenses drinking in every detail of the quarry camp below: the slow procession of vehicles lining up, the scattering of people loading the last necessities that they would bring with them, and the three masked figures.
One camera lingered on the crossbowman leaning against his tree, smoke curling from his mask as he stared back toward where they let the experiment loose.
Another tracked the medic, Doc, taking off his gloves with deliberate slowness, shoulders rolling like a predator shedding restraint.
Then the angle changed, the drone banked smoothly, climbing higher to widen its view, before cutting to a clean digital transition.
A single high-backed chair sat centered before the array of screens and monitors.
The man occupying it leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the armrests, gloved fingers steepled just under his chin.
Pale blond hair caught the blue glow of the screens, swept back in perfect order.
Black tactical coat draped over broad shoulders, collar turned up against nonexistent chill, and the sunglasses, impossibly dark, impossibly reflective, remained firmly in place even in the low light, turning his eyes into twin voids that drank the monitors without blinking.
He tilted his head, watching as Doc straightened and started toward the treeline alone without a hint of fear in his steps.
The drone automatically zoomed to follow, framing the medic's measured stride against the green-black wall of forest.
"Perfect," he murmured, voice soft, almost reverent, carrying the faintest trace of pride.