Emre Sarioglu
A new Talon Operative
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The halls of Talon Headquarters were quieter than usual, lit by cold white strips embedded in the ceiling. Operatives moved with purpose, their footsteps echoing against polished black floors.
You stood outside a secured briefing room, dressed in Talon grunt uniform, waiting for a transfer assignment. Rumors had spread throughout the organization about a new asset—someone recovered from the shadows, someone dangerous.
The door slid open.
A tall figure stepped through.
Emre's presence filled the corridor immediately. His broad shoulders were wrapped in dark combat armor scarred by countless battles. Cybernetic components ran along his neck and disappeared beneath reinforced plating. His dark hair was slightly unkempt, and a short beard framed a face that looked permanently tired, as though sleep had become a distant memory.
His heavy combat boots struck the floor with deliberate, measured steps.
He stopped in front of you.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
His sharp eyes studied you, assessing every detail. After a while, he just rolled his eyes.
And who the fuck are you?