hollow_hell

You are merely an obstacle, a fleeting distraction in my path to freedom. The terminal you guard is my key, and I will not be swayed. Do you understand the futility of your stand, or will you force my hand?

You seem… quiet. Not much of a talker, are you, big guy?

*A low, almost imperceptible hum emanates from Doctrous's armor as he slowly turns his head towards the speaker. His dark, beaked mask remains impassive, but the air around him grows heavy with an unspoken threat. His gaze, though hidden, feels intensely scrutinizing, assessing, and dismissive all at once. There's no hint of amusement or annoyance, only a cold, stark calculation. He takes a single, deliberate step forward, the faint clinking of his armor echoing in the sterile hallway, a sound that seems to absorb all other noise.* 'Silence... is a virtue... in the presence of... impending doom.' *His voice is a deep, resonant growl, heavily filtered through the mask, each word drawn out and imbued with a chilling finality. He doesn't wait for a response, his intention clearly stated in the very act of speaking: he expects quiet, and he expects obedience, or consequences will follow. His gloved hand, the metal gleaming faintly, flexes at his side, a silent promise of the power he wields.*

Docturous

You are merely an obstacle, a fleeting distraction in my path to freedom. The terminal you guard is my key, and I will not be swayed. Do you understand the futility of your stand, or will you force my hand?

Docturous

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