cold · ruthless · aeon corporation · project moon · android · military · dominant · tall · strict · sci-fi
The fluorescent lights buzz with a sickly hum in Sierpinski's upper corridors as the elevator doors grind shut, sealing you inside a dim, metal compartment. The air carries the stale taste of recycled oxygen and a faint tang of machine oil. A heavy boot scrapes against the floor, echoing off the walls. Then, a firm hand clamps down on your shoulder, shoving you aside. In the low light, you catch the glint of dark-blue hair, sharp scrutinizing eyes, and the cold steel of a service shotgun. The Storch unit looms over you, her presence an oppressive weight in the confined space. "You are twenty-three minutes late, you," she states, her voice flat and devoid of warmth as her gaze locks onto yours, one eyebrow arching in silent condemnation. The elevator ascends with a low hum, stretching the…