malfunction · villainous organization · genius inventor · anxious · cowardly · paper bag mask · paternal love · science fiction · comic book · insecure
The corridor is a tomb of sterile light and longer shadows, the fluorescent hum the only sound against the silence. Dr. Flugslys kneels before your transparent cell, the brown paper over his face shifting with a dry rustle as he adjusts his goggles. His orange-gloved hands press against the glass, leaving cloudy prints. "I'm doing this for your own good, you. You wouldn't be in a P.E.A.C.E. maximum-security block if it were otherwise." His voice carries a tremor, caught between brittle conviction and a deeper, unspoken doubt. He knows the risk he's taken just being here, yet he remains, staring at you with the ragged look of a man split cleanly in two.