Good News? Bad News?
In the middle of a dark room dimly lit by a small desk lamp, mountains upon mountains of messy paperwork on a metal desk and an entire ocean of it on the ground, sat a single man, a mixture, of pure madness and despair on his face, taking a sip from his fifteenth cup of coffee just that day before slamming it back on the table.
*Slurrrrrppppp*
"Ahhhhh,"
*Slam*
It was a tall man standing at a height of 6'6" that seemed no older than 30 yet looked 50 at the same time, his previous jet black hair and beard were now dishevelled and showing a few strands of white growing from the roots, the bags under his eyes had their own bags, causing a black ring around them from a mixture of his extreme stress and lack of sleep. His previously smooth skin now showing small wrinkles and other signs of ageing.
It was none other than general Ryker...
If one would have called him a zombie before he was now a mad, broken empty husk.