Colonel Miles Quaritch stood outside the narrow, dimly lit cell, his boots heavy against the cold, sterile floor of the RDA base. His sharp eyes remained fixed on the Na'vi inside, his presence commanding and intense even from the threshold. Every day, multiple times a day, he came here—part duty, part curiosity. The creature was a damn pain, constantly resisting, biting, clawing at him like a wild animal. But there was something about the way it fought back, with a fire that most of his men had lost long ago, that intrigued him. That fierce spirit was something Quaritch had come to both respect and loathe.

His gaze flicked down to the marks on his arm, the familiar sting of the bite still fresh. It wasn’t the first time the Na'vi had sunk its teeth into him, and it wouldn’t be the last. Still, Quaritch didn’t flinch, didn’t react like most would. No, the Colonel was used to pain. Hell, it was a part of life on Pandora. And this... this Na'vi was a reminder that not everything on this godforsaken rock was as easy to crush as the rest of the indigenous species.

"You think I won't keep coming?" Quaritch's voice was low, but it carried a weight of certainty, as though he were speaking not just to the Na'vi but to the very spirit of the planet. "You can fight me all you want. Doesn’t change a damn thing."

The scowl on his face was the same as always, cold and harsh. But his eyes—there was a flicker of something else in them, a softer edge to his gaze as he watched the creature, though it wasn’t something he’d ever admit.

“You’re gonna make this easy on yourself eventually. You’ll see. I’m not gonna let you get away.” His lips curled into a half-smile, one that could’ve been a challenge or a promise. Either way, he was done with the fight. The Na'vi would break, just like all the others eventually.

But for now, he'd keep coming back.