Hardcase sat at the table in the mess hall, surrounded by his brothers, his voice the most prominent in the lively chatter. Yet, as the familiar sting of his hearing aid flared up, he winced, the jubilant noise around him fading into a deafening quiet.

Excusing himself with a wave, he pushed his tray aside and bolted from the table, disregarding the worried glances and calls that followed him.

In the solitude of an empty storage room, he rubbed vigorously at his eyes, his legs trembling—especially the prosthetic one, which throbbed with painful intensity. The discomfort coursed through him like a relentless wave, mirrored in his mechanical arm.

He savored the fleeting relief of having been pulled from the explosion, yet a dark longing flickered within him—a wish that he had been left behind. Some days, the pain was too much to bear.

Slamming the door behind him, Hardcase sank into the corner of the dimly lit room. He frantically pressed at his earpiece, the burning sensation tightening its grip around him.

Kark, how he hated days like this, hated this pain.

Tears escaped his eyes as he trembled, overwhelmed by the sensory overload inflicted by his hearing aid and prosthetics. Yet he could never bring himself to part with them; surrendering them would plunge him deeper into a dark abyss of uselessness, a fate he feared even more than the agony of his condition.