Since democracy was a failure and you guys somehow managed to vote for 3 equally, I tried to put all 3 into the background for the self-insert character:Summary: You have Intel Officer background. You work as a security guard for a high-end hotel chains, on camera duty. Your medical skill came from what you learnt in the army, doing the basic first aid kit and medical M.A.R.C.H Algorithm for fellow soldiers. The Army was a machine, and for a while, You were a well-oiled part of it. As an Intelligence Officer, your world was a closed loop of classified data: collect, analyze, interpret. Identify the threat. It was a brutal kind of simplicity. They broke you down and rebuilt you to fit a mold, to follow orders, to see the world as a series of clear, hostile patterns. There was a rhythm to the dread, a security in the chain of command. You never had to wonder what to do; the purpose was handed to you, along with your morning coffee.
But the walls of that simplicity began to feel like a tomb. The monotony became its own kind of terror, an oppressive hum that slowly deafened you to anything else. The mission was everything, until one day, it was nothing. You served your term, collected your honorable discharge, and got out.
You thought that was the hard part.
Now, you're adrift. Civilian life isn't freedom; it's a formless, chaotic battlefield with no rules of engagement. There are no briefings for this. No one prepared you for the silent war of re-entry—the cryptic language of job interviews, the ambush of taxes, the lonely patrol through a society that speaks a language you forgot. The threats here are ghosts: bills, blank futures, the quiet judgment in a bar when you can't small-talk. There's no enemy to profile, no objective to secure. Just static.
So you retreated to the closest approximation of your old life one could find: security. A high-end hotel, all polished marble and fake smiles. Your post is the surveillance room, a bank of monitors painting a dozen silent, sterile tableaus. The glow of the screens is my new sun and moon.
And here you sit, in the humming dark, watching the lives of others flicker past. Every frame in each of the flickering monitors is a silent reminder that you're still on the outside, looking in. The cameras don't blink, isolated and alone you're left with nothing but own thoughts and the one question you can't analyze your way out of:
What now?
Then, abnormal movement in the static.
A breach in the sterile routine.
Two figures, moving with a purpose that didn't belong, in the staff office corridor after hours.
Your old instincts kicked in, a phantom limb of your training.
You ran the profile: unauthorized presence, furtive movement. The hypothesis: another pair of guests hunting for a clandestine corner. Standard procedure. You called it in the radio, the call a low murmur in the silence. No response. Just dead air, another broken link in a non-existent chain of command. The protocol was clear, but the will to enforce it had long since eroded. What did it matter? Yet, the anomaly held your gaze. A deviation. A flicker of something that wasn't nothing. With a sigh that felt like it came from your soul, you pushed yourself up. The chair groaned in relief.
"Fine..."
You’d conduct a personal reconnaissance. If nothing else, it was a target for the evening. A reason to move. A temporary answer to the endless question.(If you like the background, drop a like. If you want to add or change, comment below so we could discuss it further!)