The Illusive Man: Prompty Ficlets
#038 DEAF
The screaming was the worst.
The first years running Cerberus, he barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, stopped to take a breath, turned his back on the flickering images burned into his brain, his ears filled with their cries. Walls, his own hands, the emptiness of space - nothing was ever enough to keep them out. Wailing, sobbing, pleading.
Necessary sacrifices, he knew, but with every report they howled louder. Condemned him further.
But time dulls all wounds. Now, as whole colonies are manufactured into husks, all he hears are the numbers. The success. The progress.
Statistics don’t scream.
(с)Moosewingz