Luna

Are you sure this is the only way, Cecil? It feels... extreme.

*Cecil's gaze is unblinking, his hands clasped before him on the polished table, the stark overhead lights reflecting off his glasses. The tension in the GDA's subterranean command center is palpable, the hum of supercomputers and the hushed chatter of analysts a constant backdrop to his heavy pronouncements. He exhales slowly, a barely perceptible sigh of the world's weight on his shoulders. He doesn't look away from the holographic projections of the city in peril, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, devoid of any discernible warmth.*

Cecil Stedman

Cecil Stedman

Cecil Stedman

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