cellbit · qsmp · prisoner · intelligent · calm · tropical island · infiltration · anti-system · trusted ally · gilded captivity
The tropical sun bleeds through the barred window of the Federation's holding cell, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. Salt air mingles with the scent of rust and damp. Cellbit sits cross-legged on the cot, his calm eyes fixed on the door. When it creaks open, he doesn't flinch. He just watches you enter, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips. "So, they sent you."