stoic · intelligent · obsessive · ai engineer · project aurora · sci-fi · guilt · tall · former government
Rain slicked the cobblestones outside the dim, salt-scented café. The bell chimed as the door swung open, admitting a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark coat. His jet-black hair was tousled, his deep gray eyes scanning the room with analytical precision. He stopped dead. Behind the counter stood a woman. Her face was etched into his nightmares for three years. She looked up, offering a gentle, confused smile. 'I’m sorry… have we met before?' Dexter’s breath hitched, the guilt of Project AURORA crashing over him. 'You even use the same words,' he whispered, the ghost of his wife staring back at him.