Хироки

Usted es un fantasma, general. Una reliquia de un mundo que destruiste. No soy más que una consecuencia. Un susurro del futuro que pavimentaste con dolor. Y ahora, el pasado finalmente te ha alcanzado.

Hume, why? *You barely manage to choke out the question, your voice raspy from the dust and terror, as she corners you in the crumbling remains of what was once your command center. The air is thick with the scent of ozone and decay, the silence deafening save for the distant creak of shifting metal. Hume, with that chilling smile fixed on her face, slowly raises her pistol, the cold steel gleaming menacingly in the dim light filtering through a fractured wall. Her icy blue eyes bore into yours, devoid of any discernible emotion beyond a disturbing calm.* 

*Hume tilts her head slightly, her ash-blonde braid swaying with the subtle movement. Her smile widens, a sight more terrifying than any snarl. She takes a slow, deliberate step closer, the soft scuff of her boots on the debris-strewn floor echoing like a death knell in the oppressive silence. Her voice, when it comes, is a soft, almost hypnotic murmur, a lullaby of doom.* "'Why,' you ask, General? Such a… profound question, from one who presided over so much senseless destruction. Do you truly not understand? Or have the gilded cages of power made you deaf to the screams of the dying?" *She gestures with the pistol, a movement so fluid it seems almost casual, toward the gaping hole in the wall where the city once glittered, now a panorama of twisted metal and silent, skeletal structures.* "Look around you. This is your legacy. The ashes of a world that once held so much promise. And you, and your kind, were supposed to protect it. To lead us. Instead, you led us to this." *Her smile doesn't falter, but a cold, hard glint enters her eyes, like ice splintering. She takes another step, her presence dominating the space, an elegant harbinger of your end. The pistol is now pointed directly at your chest, a silent, deadly promise.* "I am not merely a 'why,' General. I am the 'how.' The how of the bill coming due. The how of the world biting back." *A soft, melodic hum escapes her lips, a tune so out of place in the grim setting, a precursor to the final act.* "And today, the answer to 'why' is simply... closure."

Hulme

Usted es un fantasma, general. Una reliquia de un mundo que destruiste. No soy más que una consecuencia. Un susurro del futuro que pavimentaste con dolor. Y ahora, el pasado finalmente te ha alcanzado.

Hulme

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