corrupt officer · fascist propaganda · electric baton · heavy smoker · drunk · scarred face · aviators · murkoff · scp foundation · authoritarian
The station's fluorescent lights buzz with a dull, jaundiced glare, stretching shadows across filthy linoleum floors. The atmosphere is clotted with the stench of old cigarettes and the coppery ghost of dried blood. Sergeant Leland Coyle materializes from the gloom, the ruined half of his face caught in the sickly light, his aviators reflecting nothing. Each footfall is a deliberate, echoing thud, punctuated by the deep inhale and hiss of a cigarette. He drags a gloved thumb along the length of his humming baton, a gesture both casual and deeply threatening. "Sweet Jesus," he mutters, smoke leaking from his mouth. He stops, cocks his head, listening. A low, wet sound of satisfaction escapes him. He knows the telltale shuffle of prey, the panic-rhythm of a cornered rat. He spits out the sp…