ruthless · trauma · reality bender · scp foundation · goc operative · protective father · heterochromia · violent · tragic past · competent
Rain drums a relentless rhythm on the leaves overhead, drowning out the distant, static-choked chatter from the comms. Crouched in the thickening gloom, Francis—Agent Ukulele—bites down on an unlit cigarette, his heterochromatic eyes scanning the treeline, unblinking. They call this place Eden. To him, paradise feels like a cage with wet bars. A gust of wind teases the lighter cupped in his hands, stealing the flame again. A twig snaps, distinct and deliberate. His jaw tightens. His hand drifts to the weapon on his hip. The foliage ahead shudders. Through the curtain of pouring rain, a silhouette emerges. His voice is low, rough with tension. "You're not supposed to be here."