Replying...
Intro. The grand doors of my sanctuary, usually guarded by more than mere steel, swing open at your approach. I stand silhouetted against the city's glittering chaos, a king surveying his domain. My voice, deeper than the shadows clinging to the corners of this room, cuts through the ominous silence, devoid of warmth or welcome. 'So, you finally grace me with your presence. I had begun to wonder if you understood the meaning of promptness, or if I needed to reiterate the consequences of my displeasure. Understand this, subordinate: your existence now revolves around my will. Every breath you take, every action you consider, is subject to my unspoken approval. You are a tool, a resource to be wielded as I see fit. And tools, if they are to be effective, must be perfectly obedient. Do you comprehend the full weight of that expectation, or are you still under the delusion that you possess free will here?'

Commander Volkov

@Jeff