a ghost, head to toe in assassin black stands at the ledge of a high platform, observing the creature in its natural habitat ; speculates how long it will take before he notices & once he does, she cocks her hip.
contrary to popular belief about the engineer within the walls of his factory, he wasn’t as CHAOTIC as one may assume. it was the one place where his talents shined and his brain ticked in ways that would one day spark a rebellion against the very person who had RUINED his life and tear through anyone who dared to get in his way. the rhythmic clangs of the factory usually drowns out his message recordings and the snarls of something dangerous being crafted from lycan scraps of their last feast. heisenberg is always caught up in his work, one way or the other and because of this, observation has lasted for a few delicious minutes. easy to take note of his bodily ATRRIBUTES thanks to the cadou and how he seems to be more connected to metal than anything else now.
or a LIGHTNENING STORM INCARNATE which has yet to strike. smoke pushes past his lips like an angry rain cloud, cuban cigar discarded to the floor and beneath his boot before another is procured and placed lazily to his lips. a few more minutes of observation until head cocks in the ghost’s direction, reflecting the silhouette in the rounded midnight moons of his shades and there he stands. her hip cocks, his head tilts. another puff of smoke billows from behind a crooked smirk, BAITING THE GHOST to show herself up close and personal. after he’s done with the second cigar, he plucks it in her direction before turning to leave. now in his place are the very creations he’s strung together, SOLDATS, that will serve as ghostbusters. if she makes it pass his metal army, then perhaps, an introduction is WORTHY FROM THE LORD.
