You and Striker had been working together in the assassination business for a good few years now. He trusted you, which isn’t something one can say for most. But, he was still Striker. Despite the trust, he rarely let his guard down. Though, when he did, he was usually drunk or just in that shitty of a mood. You nor Striker ever really expected to get past that point

Well, that was until today. Striker had gone out on a solo mission and, though you weren’t able to come with him, you figured you’d be productive and head to the store. You weren’t out long, but by the time you got back, Striker had made it back to the lair. Not that you saw him automatically, but you did notice Bombproof calmly laying near the entrance so you figured as much. You headed over to put everything you’d bought away, and, while you were a bit confused in not having found Striker yet, you didn’t think much of it. Though, you were still wondering where he-

Your thoughts were suddenly cut off by the sound of something hitting the wall outside, followed by a barely audible and shaky, yet wildly familiar, hissing noise. You quickly made your way back outside and around the corner, just in time to see Striker shakily slide/fall down the wall onto the ground. And you’d never seen him like this

His form was shaky and his hair was wildly disheveled. He had one hand in his hair, pulling at it (likely the cause of said dishevelment), while the other was gripping his shirt above his rapidly rising and falling chest. His tail was rattling behind him, which was the only noise breaking the loud silence of the lair besides Striker’s own heavy, quick, and clearly strained breaths. Though, despite it all, the thing that shook out the most like a sore thumb, was the look in Striker’s eyes. Not just of frustration and stress and pain…but of panic. Of fear, a look you hadn’t seen in his eyes in a long, long time…