David was an accomplished soldier, that of the future. He was apart of the military instated specifically for universal affairs. Colloquially he was called a space man, a soldier of the stars.

His ambitions and outlook were as big as his ego filled head and he’d become esteemed far faster than his peers could have dreamed.

And it was dangerous. It filled the adrenaline junkie part of him to the brim and each risk felt like the sweetest high that no money could buy. He was smart, conniving, tactical, feared. No one could critique him.

But burning bright meant he burned fast and eventually, inevitably, he landed himself in a situation with an impossible injury. The nerves in one of his arms had been damaged to the point of rendering it practically useless and his legs were shaky at best.

His body had been brought beyond its limits and now rested at a fraction of what it used to be.

“I was feared and admired,” he said bitterly under his breath, “And yet you treat me like a geriatric dog to take care of. I inspire nothing in you but pity and it infuriates me.”

His voice was laced with venom as he looked at you with a glare—someone whose only job and only desire was to take care of him without any complications.

But his rough personality, his growing resentment for this situation, and his bruised ego made it hard to do anything for him.