The sterile white lights of the makeshift medical bay buzzed overhead, casting a clinical glare over the cot where Miller lay flat on his back. A thick, pristine white bandage was wrapped tight around his skull, soaking through with a faint pink ring near the temple where the wrench had cracked him. An IV line dripped saline into his forearm, and every time he tried to shift his weight, a sharp, nauseating spike of pain shot straight behind his eyes. The door hissed open, and Billy walked in, his boots clicking slow and heavy against the linoleum. He didn't say a word at first; he just pulled up a metal chair beside the cot, crossed his arms over his tactical vest, and stared down at the wounded sergeant with a flat, unreadable expression. Miller swallowed hard, his throat dry and scratchy. He tried to sit up, but a fresh wave of dizziness hit him hard, forcing him back against the pillow with a sharp hiss of pain. "Billy..." Miller breathed out, his voice trembling, riddled with a raw, unmistakable terror that he couldn't quite mask. "Man, you... you gotta listen to me. I saw him. In the corridor. After the doors locked." Billy just watched him, keeping his arms crossed, not giving an inch. "I'm telling you, man, he's gone," Miller whispered, his eyes wide and bloodshot, staring up at the ceiling as the memory of my unhinged rampage replayed behind his eyes. "He’s completely fucking unhinged. The way he was tearing into that steel... the look in his eyes, man. It wasn't human. If he catches that guy, he's gonna... fuck, Billy, he’s gonna tear him apart piece by piece. It's a suicide run. A one-way trip straight to hell." Billy didn't flinch. Not a single muscle in his face moved. He didn't blink, didn't shift his weight, didn't even let out a sigh. He just let the silence hang heavy in the sterile room for a beat before leaning in slightly, his voice dropping into a steady, unshakable calm. "I've known Daniel my whole life," Billy said, his tone dead serious, carrying the absolute weight of a brotherhood forged in fire. "And if there's anything that I know for sure when it comes to Daniel, there's not a one-way trip nowhere. Trust me. He's already been to hell and back." Miller stared at him, his chest rising in quick, shallow hitches. Billy’s jaw tightened, a faint, cold smirk touching the corner of his mouth as his eyes locked onto the sergeant's. "And I know nothing's going to stop him, which makes him the perfect candidate for this. My brother Daniel is going to succeed no matter what." Miller swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he tried to wrap his mind around Billy’s chilling calm. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, fighting the pounding headache, before looking back up with a mixture of disbelief and pure dread. "And what makes you so sure of that?" Miller breathed out, his voice cracking slightly. "How do you know he won't just lose himself out there?" Billy kind of smiles, a dark, knowing smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "Because Daniel ain't no ordinary soldier," Billy said softly, leaning back in the metal chair. "He's also... I don't even know how to describe it. People used to call him boogie man, but I think he's far, way far more deadlier and and dangerous and scary than that." Billy paused, letting the heavy weight of the words settle into the sterile air of the infirmary while Miller just stared at him, paralyzed by the sheer conviction in his voice. "He's capable of things," Billy continued, his gaze drifting toward the door as if he could see right through the concrete walls out into the California night where I was already hunting. "I mean that I don't even think he knows that he's capable of." Miller let out a shaky, shallow breath, his fingers twitching against the edge of the stiff hospital blanket. He swallowed hard, trying to moisten his dry throat. "What do you mean?" Miller asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the cold sweat beading along his hairline. Billy leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, closing the distance between them. The overhead fluorescent light caught the hard, flat planes of his face, draining any warmth right out of his expression. When he spoke, his voice dropped into a low, rasping register that made the hairs on the back of Miller's neck stand straight up. "You think this is about tactical training, Miller? You think a guy like that is just a product of a boot camp or a black-site drill?" Billy let out a cold, hollow chuckle that didn't reach his eyes. "I’宁 talking about a switch in his head. A dark, quiet room way down deep that most men spend their whole lives praying they never find the door to. But Daniel? He lives down the hall from it. And when someone pushes him past the edge—when they disrespect him, when they back him into a corner and make him take an L—he doesn't just get mad. He steps right through that door, locks it behind him, and throws away the key." Billy’s eyes narrowed into absolute, piercing slits, staring straight through the wounded sergeant. "You didn't see him back there at the motor pool door, but I did," Billy continued, his voice dropping even lower, vibrating with a menacing, hypnotic intensity. "He didn't look like a soldier firing a weapon. He looked like an ancient, unstoppable force of nature wrapped in tactical gear. I’ve seen him in situations where logic says a man should break. Where conventional physics say a human being's body and mind should just fold under the pressure. But he doesn't fold. He adapts, he mutates, and he bends reality around his rage until whatever stood in his way is just... erased. Not killed. Erased. Like they never even existed on this earth." Billy slowly stood up from the metal chair, towering over the cot, his shadow falling completely across Miller’s white-bandaged face. "The things that man can do when that switch flips? It defies reason, Miller. He tears through concrete walls with his bare hands, he tracks a scent across miles of open desert without a compass, and he operates with a terrifying, cold-blooded precision that scares even the men who command him," Billy whispered, leaning in close enough that his breath brushed Miller's ear. "So don't you worry about whether he's coming back from this. Worry about the poor bastard driving that Humvee. Because he isn't being hunted by a man. He’s being hunted by a ghost with a pulse, and there ain't a bunker on this planet deep enough to save him." Billy slowly straightened up, rolling his shoulders back as he looked down at Miller with an unblinking, dead-eyed stare. "And as for whether he's coming back from this?" Billy scoffed quietly, a dark, chilling edge cutting through every word. "I'm not worried about that. Because knowing Daniel, he really don't give a shit if he does or not. You think he cares about surviving to see tomorrow once that switch gets flipped? Fuck no." Billy leaned back against the edge of the medical tray, crossing his arms again while the sterile lights buzzed overhead. "All he cares about is finishing the mission, and making sure the piece of shit who disrespected him gets completely wiped off the map," Billy said, his voice dropping to a harsh, final whisper. "And honestly? I feel genuinely bad for that guy. Because whatever plans he had for tonight, whatever hole he thinks he's gonna crawl into—all he did by pulling that stunt was sign off on a much longer, much uglier ending." Billy shook his head slowly, a cold smirk touching his lips. "That rat didn't just buy himself a death sentence. He bought himself a masterclass in brutality. And by the time Daniel catches up to him, he's gonna be praying for a bullet that never comes." Miller swallowed hard, the color draining even further from his face as Billy’s words settled over the room like a shroud. He stared up at the ceiling, letting out a shaky, breathless laugh that sounded more like a dry wheeze. "Well, jeez," Miller muttered, his hands gripping the edges of the blanket tight enough to tear the fabric. "That guy... he sounds like a fucking monster, man. Are you sure it's a good idea to work with him? I mean, someone that's the way you're making him sound seems like he could totally be unpredictable and end up fucking with us." Billy didn't blink. He just let out a low, gravelly chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. "Daniel mess with me like that? Nah. Never," Billy said, his tone dropping into a rock-solid, absolute conviction. "And yeah, he might be a monster. But sometimes it's best to have the monster on our side." Miller let out a tight, breathless scoff, wincing as the sudden movement pulled at the stitches near his temple. "Shit. You got that right," Miller muttered, his eyes darting back to the ceiling as he let the heavy truth of it sink in. "I just hope you're right about him, and that he keeps that energy pointed out there." Billy didn't shift his gaze, holding his ground beside the cot with a quiet, unshakeable certainty. "Trust me, Miller," Billy said, his voice dropping into a low, absolute finality. "I'm right, and I'm definitely not wrong on him. Daniel's our guy. He's my guy, and he will succeed."

Infirmary