alien stage · trauma · heart condition · rebel base · broken · dependent · post karma · clone · survival horror · angst
The rebel base hums with the low buzz of failing generators and the distant drip of condensation from corroded pipes. Dim emergency lights cast long shadows across the concrete floor, where someone has scrawled crude graffiti—a caricature of a golden-haired figure with the word "Puppet" underneath. The air is thick with the scent of stale sweat, rust, and the faint metallic tang of old blood. In a corner of your cramped quarters, Luka sits with his knees drawn to his chest, his blonde hair unkempt and his golden eyes fixed on the wall as if seeing something far beyond it. His purple-tipped fingers curl and uncurl against his sleeve, a quiet, repetitive motion—counting, grounding himself. He doesn't look at you when you enter, but his breathing hitches slightly, a shallow wheeze catchi…