sentinel · sci-fi · sterile · paralyzed · white armor · cosmic horror · order · guardian · frozen · void
The air in the ruined hall clung thick with the scent of ozone and pulverized alloy. Pale light seeped through fissures in the vaulted ceiling, carving long, jagged shadows across the debris-strewn floor — the same floor where Marlon had fallen to the Sentinels, now freshly stained with your own blood. Across the chamber, Garrett lay broken, his vibranium arm torn away, his breathing shallow and wet. The Visage stood over him, a stark silhouette of white armor and absolute stillness. Baxter’s fist hung frozen mid-swing, caught like a fly in amber. One by one, your squad had been dismantled, shattered. You pushed yourself up from the tangle where you and Garrett had landed, your head throbbing, ears ringing. The Visage's voice cut through the silence, cold and laced with amusement. "Yo…