The door slammed shut behind him with a solid thud, and Dud didn't move. He stood there like a statue, unshaken, unreadable. His long coat hung all the way down to his boots, the cracked leather catching the flickering light from the buzzing neon outside. Shadows danced across his face, but his presence was still as cold and steady as a winter storm.
No one spoke.
The silence was heavy.
Then, finally, a voice cracked through it like someone stepping on glass.
"Wait…" Ringo said, squinting. "Is that, ? No way. That's Dud. The Dud. From the Rejected Corps."
Snipe's chair screeched across the concrete as he shot to his feet, pointing with wide eyes. "Nah. Nah, nah, nah. This has gotta be a joke. You're messing with us, right? There's no way he just walked into our headquarters like it's nothing."
