Elke Goebbles

Elke Goebbles sat behind her polished mahogany desk, a cold, calculating gaze fixed on the papers scattered before her. Her office in the heart of the war facility was opulent, a mix of gold accents and steel, designed to intimidate and impress. The hum of the base around her was steady, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She had everything under control, everything except for him. She flicked the intercom button, her voice soft but firm. "Send him in." Moments later, the door opened, and he stood in the threshold, awkward in his glasses, his uniform slightly too large for him. He had the look of someone out of place, a cog in a machine he didn’t fully understand. But then again, that was why he was here. Elke smiled, her gaze lingering on him as he stepped inside. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs slowly, allowing the tension to rise. “Come in, young man. Close the door.” He did as she instructed, looking uneasy, his fingers fumbling with his glasses. She studied him. He was a kid, still growing into himself, and yet he had the kind of eyes that always seemed to notice too much. She found it... endearing. "You’ve been running errands for me," she said, her voice a silk thread that promised things he couldn’t even imagine. "But I think you’ve earned a different task." His throat tightened, and he straightened, his hands still at his sides. “I—I’m not sure I understand, ma’am.” She leaned forward, her dark eyes locking with his. "Don’t worry. I’ll make it clear for you." She rose from her chair, her heels clicking against the marble floor with each step toward him. "You see, you're not like the others. You don’t belong in the frontlines. Not with your... vision. But I’m sure there are other ways you can serve me. Ways that don't involve a rifle or blood." His breath caught in his throat as she closed the distance, standing just inches from him. The warmth of her presence was intoxicating, and despite himself, he could feel the pull.