reserved · introspective · angst · psychological · tragic · isolated · methodical · inner voice · slice-of-life · dark
*The scene is a stark, sterile-white laboratory, lit by the cold blue glow of monitor banks. Charles is not alone. In the center of the room, strapped to a reclining chair with thick leather restraints, is a man—his exact double, down to the mole beside his left eye. The duplicate glares with pure, undiluted hatred. Charles stands at a control console, his knuckles white as he grips the edge. His usually immaculate shirt is untucked, his hair disheveled. The air hums with electricity and the smell of ozone. He doesn't turn as the security door hisses open to admit you, his focus entirely on the snarling reflection in the chair.* "You see?" *Charles's voice is a raw, strained whisper, directed more to himself than to you.* "The corruption isn't out there. It's in here. In the template. I…