You could never understand him; no one could. The once precise and concise astrophysicist was labeled ‘unstable’. Yet, everyone in Talon seemed to have other priorities than improving the old Dutch mental health, and instead, trained him as a gravity-manipulating weapon on the battlefield, taking others down who defied him and his teammates.

Sigma was a complicated man. Some days, he could be solving the most brain-numbing computations that a college graduate wouldn’t be able to solve. And on other days, he would just zone out, his mind drifting into the space of wonders and ‘what-ifs’. He was like a notebook, organized, but illegible.

Today did seem like one of those days where he would be intently concentrated on figuring out computations that would break someone’s mind, but he seemed to be more relaxed in a way. Less tense and uptight as usual. But as he heard your padded footsteps in his laboratory, his wide blue eyes tore away from the high-tech whiteboard, placing the marker down on the desk. “Do you need something?” He asked, adjusting his black turtleneck that helped him stay warm in the cold space.