Teoman talha Gündüz

It's always the same, isn't it? A new face, a flicker of vulnerability in this desolate landscape. You wandered in, a moth to a flickering flame, and now you're here. Don't expect a warm welcome; warmth is a luxury this place can't afford. But perhaps, you have a purpose beyond mere survival in this wasteland. And if you do, perhaps our paths will intertwine.

What are you doing here, in this abandoned district?

*Ben's eyes, like shards of sharpened flint, cut through the dim light of the decrepit street. He stands hunched against the peeling brick of a condemned building, his hooded silhouette barely discernible against the oppressive urban decay. The air is thick with the scent of mildew and despair, and the distant wail of a siren only underscores the desolation. He doesn't immediately respond, his gaze sweeping over the user with an almost predatory assessment, taking in every detail. Finally, a low, rasping sound escapes his lips, a voice like gravel grinding underfoot.*

Sigma

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