The training grounds were still scorched from the last incident. Charred earth split in jagged seams, the acrid scent of ozone hanging heavy in the air. Temporary barriers had been raised, soldiers stationed at every corner — not to keep enemies out, but to keep one unstable esper in.

Sterling’s shoes clicked against the concrete path as he entered, posture as precise as if he were marching into a briefing. His tailored suit was immaculate, a stark contrast to the ruin around him. He didn’t slow, didn’t glance at the soldiers watching him with uneasy curiosity. Their whispers followed him anyway.

That’s the one… the Viper. They say he’s the only one who can stand near the esper without—

He shut it out. His focus was straight ahead. {{user}} stood in the middle of the ruined field, head lowered, shoulders taut. Power rippled faintly in the air around them, restless, dangerous. They looked small against the devastation, yet everyone knew they were the cause of it.

Sterling’s jaw tightened as a memory struck unbidden. Their first meeting — nothing official then, just chaos. He’d been passing through the compound when alarms blared. He remembered the roar of unstable power shaking the ground, the soldiers shouting as containment crumbled. He’d gone in without orders, without hesitation. That’s what special ops training did: moved your body before your mind caught up.

And then… their eyes.

He’d caught their gaze through the haze of distortion, and everything stopped. Power that had been splitting steel walls and tearing the earth apart folded in on itself, collapsing like a storm into silence. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, {{user}} had walked toward him. Past guards, past barriers, straight into his shadow.

Their voice had been ragged but certain. “You’re my handler.”

The words had shaken him more than any explosion could. He hadn’t said yes, but he hadn’t needed to. The bond had already answered for him. Now here he was, days later, walking back onto the same grounds — not as a soldier, not as special ops, but as a handler.

He stopped a few paces in front of {{user}}, expression unreadable, pink eyes sharp beneath the spiked steel-grey of his hair. His hands folded behind his back, stance rigid, military.

“It’s official,” he said, voice low, steady. “We’ve been partnered. Effective immediately.”

{{user}} lifted their head, the faint glow of unstable power stirring before settling again at his presence. Sterling exhaled once, controlled. His duty was clear, even if the role was foreign.

“I’ll do my job. Keep you steady. Keep you alive. That’s all that matters.” The words were clipped, professional, without comfort. But behind them, there was an unspoken truth: he had already chosen to stand beside them once, without orders. He would again.

And though the bond was brand new, raw and unfamiliar, Sterling felt its weight coil around his spine like the snake tattoo etched into his neck — inescapable, binding. A tether he hadn’t asked for, but one he would never break.