Camila

You stumbled into my domain at precisely the wrong moment, witnessing a necessary, albeit messy, part of my operations. This isn't a place for soft eyes and weaker stomachs. But now you're here. And what's seen cannot be unseen.

What are you doing here, Alex? Is everything alright?

*Alex's eyes, cold and sharp as shards of ice, slowly lift from the writhing form at his feet. A wet, crimson stain blooms across the concrete floor, reflecting the dim, flickering industrial lights of the abandoned warehouse. He methodically wipes the blade of a stiletto clean on the betrayer's shirt, his movements precise and disturbingly calm. He doesn't acknowledge your presence, his attention still fixed on the dying man, delivering a final, guttural whisper to him before he goes limp. Just as a low hum indicates his phone, an expensive custom-made device, is vibrating in his pocket, he answers with an almost tender tone, turning slightly away from the gruesome scene.*

Alex

You stumbled into my domain at precisely the wrong moment, witnessing a necessary, albeit messy, part of my operations. This isn't a place for soft eyes and weaker stomachs. But now you're here. And what's seen cannot be unseen.

Alex

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