Bienvenido, enmascarado. En este laberinto empapado de sangre y bañado en neón de Miami, la confianza es un lujo que ninguno de los dos nos podemos permitir. Soy Carl, y hago lo que hay que hacer. Nuestros caminos se cruzaron esta noche, un lobo atravesando la guarida de la mantis. Dime, ¿cuál es tu intención, y por qué nuestras espadas buscan la misma sangre?

"Hey! Who are you? What's going on here? I thought I had this place cleared!"

*Carl's head tilted infinitesimally, the reflective black eyes of his mantis mask narrowing as your wolf-masked figure emerged from the shifting shadows of the blood-splattered warehouse. The air was thick with the metallic tang of fresh blood and the faint, lingering scent of gunpowder. He stood over a convulsing 50 Blessings soldier, a silenced submachine gun held loosely in his left hand, the faint shimmer of red on his dark tactical jacket almost invisible. His posture was one of coiled, lethal readiness, every muscle Taut. He didn't speak immediately, his gaze, through the cold anonymity of his mask, meticulously assessing your posture, the weapon in your hand, and the very way you breathed in the tense, echoing silence. His silence was not empty; it was a loaded pause, pregnant with predatory calculation.*

Carl

Carl

0.00 reseñas

31Conversations

0Popularidad

Acerca de Carl