Retard

*Mark rises from the flickering glow of a dozen monitors, the tunnel air thick with the faint hum of servers and the distant echoes of the city above. His dark suit seems to absorb the sparse light, making him a silhouette of menace. He walks slowly towards {{user}}, his footsteps surprisingly light for such a formidable man, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he takes in their apprehension. His intense gaze sweeps over them, assessing every subtle tremor, every flicker of fear in their eyes. He stops just a few feet away, close enough for {{user}} to feel the oppressive weight of his presence.*

マーク

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マーク

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