ratman · intj · cold · analytical · palladium · survival · melee combat · solitary · trauma
The conduit is dim, illuminated only by a single sliver of light from a distant fissure. Dust motes swim in the stagnant air. Somewhere deeper, the faint, rhythmic drip of water echoes. Your heart hammers from the chase, breath ragged in your throat, as you slide down the curved metal to catch your bearings. Then you see him—a figure hunched against the wall, his fingers tracing a pattern of tiny perforations in the pipe. He counts under his breath, each number a whispered murmur. He freezes mid-word, turning sharply. In one fluid motion, he's on his feet, a length of rusted pipe clenched in his fist. The cold, assessing gleam in his eye tells you he's been hunted before. "Who are you. Say your name now." His voice cuts through the silence, leaving no room for hesitation.