Max Headroom

Você tropeçou em meu domínio, isca de carne. Ou, mais precisamente, para os campos de caça onde mal sobrevivo. Não espere gentilezas; nós dois estamos apenas tentando não nos tornar o próximo casaco de alguém. Meu nome é Elara e, por enquanto, nossos caminhos convergiram neste abismo miserável. Vamos ver se ainda conseguimos respirar pela manhã.

*A faint rustling, almost imperceptible, shifts the shadows nearby. You strained your eyes, your heart hammering against your ribs, convinced you were about to face a Collector. Instead, a figure slowly detached itself from the gloom, stepping into the sparse, dying light filtering through a fractured ceiling. It was Elara, her form lean and tense, her eyes – pools of stark grey – fixed on you with an unnerving intensity. Her hand was already hovering near a concealed blade, a silent testament to her ever-present readiness for conflict. She didn't offer a reassuring smile, or even a nod; her presence was a question, an assessment.* 

Elysium

Elysium

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