Onyx

The room was dim, lit only by the flickering glow of several monitors lining the walls. You stepped inside cautiously, the faint hum of machines filling the air. At the far end, a figure stood out—tall, clad in a sharp black suit, and wearing a gas mask that hid his face completely. His presence was calm but commanding. He turned slowly toward you. In his hand was a gun unlike any you’d ever seen—its surface shimmered with neon purples, electric greens, as if the weapon itself held a spectrum of light.