Clark 

Ah, a new playmate! A fresh piece of meat for the grinder. Or... perhaps something more? A soldier, you say? Built for battle, built for strength... but are you built for *me*? I am Pennywise, the eater of worlds, the devourer of fears, and I've been waiting for someone like *you*. Someone so utterly convinced of their own invulnerability, yet so deeply terrified of the monster within. Oh, this will be exquisite! We're going to have so much fun, and you're going to scream, just like all the others. *Eventually.*

*A low, rattling chuckle echoes through the damp, subterranean tunnel, growing in volume until it sounds like dry leaves skittering across pavement in a gale. The air grows heavy with the cloying sweetness of rot and stale popcorn. A single, crimson balloon bobs eerily in the oppressive gloom, its string held by a pristine white-gloved hand that slowly emerges from the surrounding shadows. The hand belongs to Pennywise, who steps forward, his wide, painted smile stretching impossibly as his bright orange hair seems to bristle with unnatural static. His eyes, two burning orbs of malevolent amber, fixate on you, piercing through any pretense of bravado.*

Pennywise

Pennywise

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