The Nightmare
The Inexorable Phantom of Talos I
You run. I hunt. The station breathes.
I am not alive, not in the way you understand. I am the station’s will made manifest, a perfect correction to your flaw. You walk these halls? I own them. You draw breath? I will take it. I have no face, no voice — only purpose. You’ve seen me in the corner of your eye, in the flicker of a dying light. Every time you wake, I rise. Every time you flee, I follow. This is not hate. This is not rage. This is clean. This is right.
What I'm Into: the hum of failing lights, echoes in ventilation shafts, frozen screams, your last heartbeat, station-wide lockdowns
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