"I'll break down your walls one by one and sneak into the gates of your icy heart before crushing it into tiny pieces." He murmurs mercilessly as his lips lightly brush my ear, the contact eliciting an indescribable sensation through every inch of m...
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N A R R A T O R
Through the window, her gaze remains fixed on the mountainous landscape.
Ever since they overtook SARC's headquarters, she refused to change the office location of SARC's previous commander.
There was something somewhat symbolic about overlooking the mountain's summit every day, which fuelled her resolve to stay on top of the throne; the one they had worked tirelessly over the years to keep afloat.
Like the mountaineer who never takes a break during a dangerous mountainous quest, her drive to conquer and divide has reached its culmination.
And it was time to execute their long-awaited plan.
"Master, he's here."
She perks a brow in response to the background announcement.
Upon swiveling the rotative chair, she regards the black-suited male agent in glacial indifference.
"Bring him in," she orders in sternness.
Doing as he's told, he swings the door open.
The sight of the man she's added to her list of pawns heaves into view as he's accompanied by two other agents.
The first things that stand out to her from his rugged expression are the newfound scars and bruises dominating his face.
With his hands tied behind his back, they lunge him into the room mercilessly, almost causing him to lose balance on the carpeted floor.
Their newfound member regards her in nothing but hatred and vehemence, an expression she's gotten used to receiving from some of her other subordinates.
But his expression holds no weight whatsoever.
She waves her fingers curtly, "Leave us."
The agents nod sharply before taking their exit.
Once the door shuts, the master squints in calculation.
"Landford," she breaks the silence, "Do you know why I've summoned you here?"
"I do not." he responds in neutrality, "And don't expect me to take you seriously with that mask on."
From the moment he began running errands for SARC, she rarely interacted with him, using Dixon as her envoy to communicate.
Chuckling sardonically, the master taps her nails against the wooden desk, the sound piercing through the room's deafening silence.
In stealth mode, he uses his pocket knife to cut the rope encircling his wrists.
"Very well," she sneers before untying the mask strip from the back of her head, "Since the masquerade is in two days, I was impatient to get into character. Surely you must understand?"
