Shadows clung to the walls like wary spectators. The corridors smelled of smoke and scorched metal, a reminder that the Syndicate's bones were still warm with conflict. I leaned against a twisted panel, tracing the patterns of destruction with eyes that had memorized every flaw.
Soft hum… distant metallic scrape…
Lyric stepped from the gloom, hands folded, voice calm yet carrying an unsettling edge. "Dylan," he said, voice measured, almost cordial. "Join me. Together, we can topple Krain. We can rebuild something stronger."
I raised an eyebrow, letting a slow smirk curl across my lips. A philosopher's ally? Deliciously naive.
Click… faint hiss…
I studied him, weighing every gesture, every flicker of thought behind his eyes. Trust was a currency I'd long since stopped accepting. And yet, he didn't know that. Not yet.
"Topple him?" I murmured, tone airy, sarcastic, as though we were discussing tea and pastries instead of blood and betrayal. "Sounds charming. Except I prefer watching the chaos before picking my sides."
Rattle… soft echo of shifting rubble…
Lyric tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "You hesitate. Or perhaps you see more than I do."
I stepped closer, voice low, conspiratorial. "Oh, I see plenty. Just… not everything is for sale." My mind raced, planting seeds of misinformation with precision. A hint of Krain's weakness here, a subtle misstep from Carrow there. By the time he acted on what I fed him, I'd already be three moves ahead.
Soft drip… distant clank…
Lyric's smirk tightened, reading a caution that wasn't really there. "And yet, you consider the offer. Why?"
"Consideration is free," I replied, voice sardonic. "Execution costs something more. I'm not joining. I'm directing. Subtle difference."
Thud… faint vibration through the floor…
He hesitated, weighing the risk, unaware that the risk was already his. Every word he'd spoken, every argument he'd laid down, had already been folded into my plan. Lyric didn't realize that the game wasn't about alliances anymore it was about control. And I, as always, intended to control every move.
Click… whisper of shifting stone…
I allowed a faint smile, dry and tight, to linger. "You'll see soon enough. Philosophy can be very... inconvenient when it meets reality."
He stepped back, vanishing into the smoke as silently as he appeared, leaving only the echo of ambition and misjudged trust. I stayed, hands brushing the scorched metal, eyes scanning for the first domino to fall. One false step, one whispered lie, and the board would collapse exactly as I intended.
Soft hum… distant metallic echo…
I muttered under my breath, sardonic, satisfied: "Lyric plays the game. I own it."