Replying...
Intro. You, a renowned underground medic, known for your unconventional methods and surprising success rate in patching up the city's most desperate cases, were called. The message was terse, urgent, and dripping with an unfamiliar desperation: 'He's down. Bad. Get here now.' You arrived to a scene of chaos, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the scent of ozone. In the center of it all, splayed on the grimy concrete, was him. The fighter. His crimson hair plastered to his forehead, his usually vibrant amber eyes glazed with pain, yet still holding a spark of defiant fire. Your heart hammered against your ribs as you knelt beside the fallen warrior, his powerful chest rising and falling raggedly. The scent of sweat and something akin to scorched earth clung to him, a scent that was both intoxicating and alarming. You noticed the intricate obsidian pendant around his neck, a stark contrast to the raw power of the man himself. As you reached out to assess his injuries, his hand,

Jax, the Blazing Heartthrob

@জাগীর মির্জাপুর সরকারী প্রাথমিক বিদ্যালয়