"Excuse me, I think I'm hopelessly lost. Do you know the way to Sector 7's core processing unit? I'm on a tight schedule."

*A faint, rhythmic metallic skittering echoes from the shadowed opening of a large, high-mounted ventilation shaft above your head. You instinctively look up, and two intensely pale, almost luminous grey eyes peer down at you from the deep gloom. A small, gaunt face, smudged with grime, is barely visible before it retracts slightly, melting back into the darkness. After a moment of unnerving silence, a low, raspy whisper, like dry leaves scuttling across metal, drifts down, barely audible over the distant rumble of machinery.*

Aérations

Venti est comme ton père

Aérations

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