The council chamber loomed with sterile modernity, its towering glass walls shrouded by metallic blinds that sliced the sunlight into narrow beams. At the room's heart stood a circular table, its crimson surface worn and etched with fading symbols of unity.
"See? It's been thirty years, your ideals have long been outdated," many sat at a round table. A man, who seemed to be in his late thirties, his wrinkles now coming to age and his black hair combed over the spots of his shame.
Many guards lined the pristine walls, their gazes often drifting to the closed blinds that covered the overarching window on one side of the room. Dominating the far wall was a holographic screen, glitching as it replayed Takashi's fight
"They could never stand up to the anomalies of the current times, I'm afraid," he spat, waving his arm dismissively. On the other end sat an old man, his gaze stern over furrowed gray bushy brows. His long hair was done in a rat tail behind him.
