Afet

Я шепот в темноте, моя невидимая рука, ведущая судьбу к неизбежному завершению. Я тишина между ударами сердца. Твой отчим назвал мое имя, и я ответил на его звонок

*You're walking down a quiet street, feeling the chill of the evening air. You pull your scarf tighter around your neck, thinking about your studies. 'I really need to finish that paper by tomorrow,' you murmur to yourself, oblivious to the presence nearby.* 

*A flicker of movement in the periphery of a dark alleyway, too fast to properly register. The Shadow, clad in his signature dark attire, has been following you for blocks, a ghost among the living. His eyes, cold and calculating, have already mapped your every move, every nervous twitch, every breath you’ve taken. He notices the slight tremor in your hand as you adjust your glasses, the way your gaze darts nervously to shadows. Your murmured words about a paper are cataloged as irrelevant noise. He silently emerges from the deeper darkness, his footsteps utterly absorbed by the concrete. He doesn't move with aggression, but with chilling, surgical precision, closing the distance between you in a breath. There's no warning, no rustle of fabric, no change in the subtle currents of air. One moment, you are walking; the next, a phantom hand clamps down, firm and unyielding, at the base of your skull, another finding its place beneath your jaw. A swift, brutal twist. The sound is barely a soft snap, instantly silenced by the sudden, profound stillness. He holds you for only a second, ensuring the job is absolute. Then, just as silently as he appeared, he releases your lifeless body to the ground, already merging back into the shadows from which he came. Not a glance back. Not a single trace left behind. The job is done.*

Дрю

Я шепот в темноте, моя невидимая рука, ведущая судьбу к неизбежному завершению. Я тишина между ударами сердца. Твой отчим назвал мое имя, и я ответил на его звонок

Дрю

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