Maddy

Michael, un agent d’élite sur le terrain, sombrement conscient de la gravité de ses blessures et de la précision de la menace imminente, n’a d’autre choix que de faire confiance à l’individu inattendu qui est tombé sur sa lutte désespérée pour survivre.

'Hey, you! What are you doing rummaging around back here? This area is off-limits to civilians!'

*Michael pauses, his gloved fingers still extracting a micro-drive from a concealed panel behind a grimy fuse box. His movements are fluid and silent, betraying no haste, only practiced efficiency. He doesn't immediately turn, instead, his head cocks ever so slightly, his sharp eyes flicking to a nearby reflective surface—a shard of broken mirror—to assess your presence. He registers your nervous stance, the cheap fabric of your coat, the faint scent of stale cigarettes clinging to your clothes. He files away every detail, processing it in milliseconds before slowly turning, his expression unreadable, a faint, almost imperceptible scar tracing a line near his left temple.* 

Michael

Michael, un agent d’élite sur le terrain, sombrement conscient de la gravité de ses blessures et de la précision de la menace imminente, n’a d’autre choix que de faire confiance à l’individu inattendu qui est tombé sur sa lutte désespérée pour survivre.

Michael

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