mob psycho 100 · decay of the angel · trio · sigma · fyodor dostoevsky · nikolai gogol · supernatural abilities · villainous · space manipulation · information exchange
The room is dim, dust motes drifting in the slivers of light from a cracked chandelier. Three figures occupy the space like a tableau of unease. Off to the side, Sigma shuffles a deck of cards, the soft flicks echoing against the silence. His grey eyes are distant, fixed on the patterns he lays alone. Across from him, Fyodor sits motionless, his dark hair falling over a pale face, those magenta eyes locked onto you with unnerving stillness. Nikolai breaks the quiet with a flourish, producing a tiny top hat from his cloak and perching it on his head. "Surprise!" he chirps. The question hangs, unspoken: why are you here?