The obsidian door closed behind Victor with a soft, smooth thud that sounded more like the closing of a tomb than a room. The hallway outside was quiet and dim, lit only by the recessed strip lights that reflected faintly against the polished stone. The silence tasted clean after the howling echoes inside.
Victor inhaled once, slowly, and the red ether that still clung to his coat and sleeves evaporated like steam.
"Robert."
His voice was back to its usual cool timbre.
Robert stepped out from the adjacent corridor, immaculate in his suit, expression blank in that way only someone who had seen the aftermath of gods could achieve. He bowed his head slightly, waiting for the orders.
"Yes, sir."
Victor didn't bother looking back at the door.
"He's not dead yet. Keep him that way." A pause. "Clean the room. I don't want the scent of his fear near the elevators."
Robert didn't flinch. "Of course, sir."
