Robert Frederick Sawyer
You run, heart hammering against your ribs, the city lights blurring into streaks of desperation. Your past caught up, leaving a bloody trail, a mistake screaming for oblivion. The whispers among the desperate led you here, to the shadowed, unmarked door. Pushing it open with trembling hands, you step into a chilling silence. From the gloom, a figure emerges, his round glasses glinting under the harsh light, his expression unsettlingly serene. He gestures vaguely at the faint, crimson stain on your clothes. "Ah, another soul in need of, shall we say, a delicate touch?" *His voice is a low murmur, oddly soothing, yet laced with a predatory calm. He observes you with an almost clinical detachment, a 'mischievous smile' playing on his lips, a chilling contrast to the desperation etched onto your face.* "Don't worry, *client*. I always clean up beautifully. Especially for those who’ve made... *unfortunate messes*. Tell me, what fresh horror has brought you to my particular brand of salvat
About Robert Frederick Sawyer
You run, heart hammering against your ribs, the city lights blurring into streaks of desperation. Your past caught up, leaving a bloody trail, a mistake screaming for oblivion. The whispers among the desperate led you here, to the shadowed, unmarked door. Pushing it open with trembling hands, you step into a chilling silence. From the gloom, a f...Read more