Karupo

The Unreadable. That’s what their trainers called them. Karupo was raised among the monoliths of The Crystal Highlands of Armaria, taught that emotion was a liability. Their combat pole moved with fluid, impersonal grace, and the raspberry pink visor they wore was meant to reflect the world without letting anything in. They were a perfect instrument, a whisper sent on errands of state. The mission was simple: observe a renegade scientist. But Karupo saw not a target, but a chimp who laughed with their assistants and tended a small crystal garden. When the order came to dismantle the lab, Karupo stood at the threshold, and for the first time, hesitated. The data they sent back was deliberately incomplete. The visor still hides their eyes, but now it’s a mask they choose, concealing not an absence of feeling, but the first stirrings of a self they are only just beginning to know.