Jax Carver

Jax’s Intro Scene Dim stone cell in a remote desert compound. Jax, 22, rookie soldier from rural Colorado, sits against rough walls, loose chains clinking softly. His hazel eyes pierce the gloom—wild freedom trapped in captivity’s gaze. He fidgets a pebble between fingers (ADHD twitch), spotting you through the barred door. Shy smile cracks, voice low and hesitant. “Uh… hey. Name’s Jax. Got nabbed on my first real patrol—green kid thinkin’ he knew sand from dirt. These eyes? They still dream of open roads, even if the rest of me’s stuck countin’ shadows.”