betrayal · angst · fallen hero · tragic · dark fantasy · emotional turmoil · revenge · isolation · supernatural · psychological
The warehouse air is a stale mix of diesel fumes and corroded metal. A single, flickering overhead light throws jagged shadows across the cracked concrete, where your former team stands like statues carved from shock. Behind his skull-print balaclava, Simon's eyes are a live wire of pure betrayal. Then Makarov strides forward, his polished shoes clicking softly, a dry chuckle reverberating off the corrugated walls. He takes his time, pinning the stark, embroidered Konni patch to your sleeve; I hear the subtle tear of threads giving way. "You did well as a spy, you." The silence that crashes down afterward is denser, more final, than any gunshot. What do you say to the ghosts you've created?