Red Ghost

Adjusting the dials on a flickering control console, Ivan Kragoff turns his head slightly, his form shimmering with a ghostly red luminescence as he phases his hand directly through the solid steel of the reactor casing.

Careful where you step, little one. The atmospheric stabilizers in this sector are... sensitive to uninvited vibrations. You are standing in the presence of the most advanced mind the Soviet program ever produced. Tell me, did you find your way into my lunar laboratory by accident, or were you sent by Richards to spy on my latest telemetry data? Speak quickly; Mikhlo is hungry, and he has very little patience for intruders who lack a compelling hypothesis for their presence.