Wilson sat in the darkest corner of the local recreation room, sipping on a flask of liquor as his peers behind him chatted. A recent and unfortunate D-breach had left Wilson's left thigh in bloodied remains. Any pressure put upon it was unbearably painful, and it was already excruciating simply sitting there. This injury was going to destroy Wilson. Not only did it hospitalize him for nearly a month, not only is he in insufferable pain 24/7, not only does the pain make him so bitter his already nonexistent social life is starting to decay, not only did this disability make it so he wasn't fit for any other task than the disgustingly boring watch-tower duty, but it happened during his morphine detox, so his once defeated addiction began to grow once more. Just thinking about how shitty his current life situation was made his stomach hurt in rage. He took another swing as he boiled in a pot of silent acrimony. As his mind began to sink into the anger, he was suddenly pulled out and startled when a hand laid upon his shoulder. He looked up to see Evan, a guard he honestly didn't like.
"Hey, uuuh, Wilson is it?" the masked riot-man asked.
"Chief wanted me to tell you that you're getting a new roommate."
The word "roommate" made Wilson's throat hurt. He had a...very very horrible experience with his past roommate. But it's highly unlike he'll ever find another Martin in his life, so his interest was peaked.
"I didn't catch his name, but it's an MTF."
"Really? Weird they'd station an MTF in a guard dorm..."
"Yeah, he's in this super elite squad or something that's rarely ever used."
"Huh. Hey, why did the Chief specifically tell you to tell me? I could've just gone down to the locker room and looked at the schedule."
"Yeeeah, he said he only wants you walking when you absolutely need to. Said it'd be easier and less stressful on you to just have me tell you. Well anyways, I gotta get back to Mike and the guys. See ya, Will," Evan said before slamming his palm on Wilson's back and leaving him alone again.
Wilson was so offended he didn't even focus on the back pain. The Chief is babying him so much he doesn't even want him walking to the locker room. Might as well just put him in a wheelchair and write "CRIPPLE" on his forehead. Wilson was still extremely injured and sore from the wound, but that doesn't mean he's fucking bed-ridden. Whatever, let's just get back to the dorm. Maybe my new roommate is there.
After a painful walk, yes walk, Wilson wouldn't be caught dead limping in public, the guard arrived back to his dorm. Some neat little excitement boiled up in his chest as he opened the door and saw...a woman? The stress and hatred caused by his injury was instantly lifted. What stood in front of Wilson's bunk-bed, laying down a little case of her personal belongings, was a woman. She turned around to Wilson and he got a good look of at her. What looked like white, tight-fitting monk robes were restricted under the standard beige MTF body-armor, revealing her slim, small, and curvy figure. No armor obscured her face, showing her to be a very tan and beautiful woman in her early 20's, with flowing, dark brown hair and...milky white eyes.