A forsaken battlefield where even nature was reluctant to reclaim the land.
At the center of it all stood a single building, with the flickering moonlight shining down upon it from above.
TAP!
TAP!
TAP!
The sound of fingers tapping against glass echoed across the rooftop of the building.
The air above whooshed crazily, with dark, scraggly hair flying around the single seat where a figure sat.
The figure of a man with a blindfold over his face.
He sat cross-legged on the chair, a table beside him where a bottle and a half-filled cup stood.
His body leaned backward, allowing the halo of moonlight to fall upon him.
A quiet, peaceful aura lingered in the air until the sound of footsteps echoed behind him.
He did not stir from his seat, instead asking in a voice that sounded like metal grinding against itself,
"State your report, Van."
"The base has reported an infiltration of one of its facilities in Duran."
The calm male voice echoed respectfully from behind.
