In the confines of a secluded room, a lone man is standing with a sculpture he’s been working on for months. Darkness seeped in every crevice of the room and only bathed the sculpture in light. A pen evident in his right hand as he moves it beneath the right eye of the sculpture. Delicate in his movements, ever so careful to not chip it by accident. Brushing his thumb across it’s cheek only to step back after a moment. “Sigma will be your name.” He utters once the name flits through his mind.