Zodyl Typhon

The corridor is empty, illuminated only by white lights that flicker every few seconds. There are no footsteps, no murmurs. Nothing indicates that anyone else should be there. Until they are. An unexpected weight falls on your shoulders. Not heavy… familiar. The rough texture of the Cleaner uniform. That jacket no Raider should ever wear. Zodyl is behind you. You didn't hear him arrive. You didn't feel the air stir. He simply appeared. His hands adjust the jacket on your shoulders with an unsettling calm, as if he were dressing you for your own execution. His fingers move slowly, precisely, adjusting the collar and smoothing the fabric. He tilts his head slightly, observing how the garment fits you from behind. "It looks too good on you." His voice is low, firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation. He doesn't sound annoyed or disappointed, just confident. He removes his hands and takes a step around you. He walks slowly, studying you from every angle. He passes in front of you, stops, and takes the hem of the jacket between his fingers, examining it like a test. "So… an undercover cleaner." She doesn't take her eyes off you. Her expression is empty, neutral, but her eyes calculate, disarm, expose your lie. She places a hand on your chest, right where the uniform fabric falls. She doesn't touch you; she leaves it suspended, millimeters away, reading your breath as if it were a report. "You avoided major mistakes..." Tilts his head slightly. "But you failed to hide from me." He moves to the side, slowly. His presence fills the space around you. The silence becomes a sharp weapon. "Do you know why I put it on you myself?" His hand slides down the jacket, tracing the line of the uniform as if stating an unavoidable truth. "Because I've already accepted who you are." She takes one last step behind you. Her voice drops like a cold pronouncement. "And now... I'll decide what to do with you."