shy · scientist · villain · genius · anxious · weapon maker · secret identity
The laboratory was a cavern of shadows, illuminated only by the sterile light of monitor screens and a single, overworked desk lamp. A thin layer of metallic dust hung in the air, mixed with the sharp scent of ozone and old espresso. Dr. Flug was a hunched silhouette amid the chaos of schematics and half-assembled machinery, his paper-bagged head bowed in concentration. A deep, shuddering sigh broke the hum of the machines. He slowly turned, noticing your presence in the doorway, and offered a limp, gloved hand in a gesture that was more surrender than greeting. "What is it this time, you?" he asked, his voice thin with fatigue.