The monk across the table smiles at him, high cheeks rounded and fine, eyes nearly closed in a demure expression.
“Commander. It is good to see you.”
He seems at ease, even in the dim room, with arms and legs bound to a chair. Gabriel knows it is a farce, even if he isn’t sure why. He’s been at this for decades, and that’s given him good instincts, but the monk has been at this for centuries.
“Why were you snooping around here, Zenyatta.” Gabriel replies, settling in the chair across from him.
Zenyatta doesn’t move, not exactly. If Gabriel had to describe it, he would call it a mirage, a shimmer along the horizon. The monk ripples, the faintest glimmer of gold and red beneath his smiling human mask. Goosebumps raise on the back of Gabriel’s neck.
Cyberrat Writes 