And he was humming a tune. A low, rhythmic, four-note sequence.
Kael’s hand shot up and clamped around the officer’s wrist. His eyes weren't dead. They were hungry . And when he finally spoke, his voice was not his own. It was the sound of a modem screaming into a void. It was the sound of a MIDI file corrupted by infinity. nighthawk22 - isolation midi
He checked his geo-scanner. A blinking dot pulsed two klicks east. He started walking. And he was humming a tune
Kael’s hand drifted to the sidearm at his hip. He didn't draw it, but he felt the cold plastic of the grip. He took a wide arc around her. nighthawk22 - isolation midi