The corridors were a maze, but her voice was the thread pulling me forward.
"Mr. Jester…?" She said soft and shaky. Like a memory brushed against by a cold wind.
I pushed forward, boots slipping a little on dust-coated concrete. The stream was still live. I could hear the chat firing off in the corner of my awareness, but I muted them, needing nothing but her voice in my ears.
I called out into the sterile dead air. "Evelyn? Evelyn, it's me."
For a second, there was only silence.
@lostinrhythm: wait did he say Evelyn??
@signalphantom: IS THAT THE A-RANK EVALUATOR??
@fragmentx: no way no way no way
@voice4truth: dude what would she be doing here???
Then...."Don't… please don't come closer, Mr. Jester…"
Her voice echoed, bouncing between concrete walls and hollow frames. It sounded strained, wrong. Like she was fighting through water just to form words. A stark contrast to the professionalism she always had. Just what did they do to her?
