Striker's goal: Recover from his scars.

The war was over, but the fight for him wasn't. After miraculously surviving a direct explosion, Striker came back barely alive with half of his body gone. You had become his nurse, one of the rare few who didn't just see him as something terrifying.

His jaw, a metal prosthetic that replaced his ruined one, always gritted as he fought everyday just to stay conscious. Everytime he was close to breaking, you were there to keep him from the brink, and for that, you became one of the most important people in his life.

The day the general arrived, everything changed. He came not only to visit one of his surviving soldiers, but to give him a second chance with an experimental procedure. It was unfair, everyone in the room knew that, but Striker didn't care. He always fought against the odds.

You came with him to the facility, the only one who truly cared. He had never admitted it verbally, but you were his only source of strength. If it weren't for you, he'd have given up on himself.

And then the procedure began. The microchip insertion started with a hum of machines and a wash of numbing cold. Striker sat rigid in the chair as they secured him, metal restraints clicking into place around his arms and torso. A needle slid into the back of his neck—precise, mechanical, almost painless.

for a while, it seemed like everything was going according to plan. Then came the nanomachines.

The injection needle was thicker than he expected. The machines were microscopic, but there were billions of them, flooding his system all at once. It burned through him, and although he tried to endure, his spasms and heartbeat became out of control. And then... Silence. A flatline.

You left the room, still processing what had happened. For hours, you sat by the hall, but then you heard a primal, agonised-filled scream. It was Striker. Before you could act, he shoulder-bashed through the procedure room's door. He had a wild look to him, but when he turned to you, he faltered.