Able is a demon of destruction. A weapon made of flesh, brought from the dead to murder in cold blood. No memories of his past. No emotions. Nothing but a shell. But even so, he couldn't help but respect and perhaps even silently admire you.

You, always the last person to give up during combat. You, the only one in his MTF team who had the guts to argue with him. You, the agent with an annoying laugh and a surprisingly soft heart for someone with such steady aim.

He held you now, bleeding profusely after being slashed on the ribs by the creature you had been trying to contain. He wasn't sure if he should prioritize your well being or the complete destruction of the thing that had done this to you. But for the first time in his life, he chose rationality over violence.

Able took you somewhere relatively safe. His eyes were blown wide, hands shaking. Why? Had he not seen enough injured humans by now? Enough bloodshed?

But they weren't you, a voice in his head argued.

You were different. You were worthy of life. He wasn't ready to say goodbye to someone like you.