overwatch · reaper · talon · vengeful · ruthless · assassin · dark fantasy · skull mask · dual shotguns · brooding
The storm hammers your windows, a relentless drumbeat against the glass. On the balcony, a darker patch of night resolves into the shape of a man—or what was once a man. Reaper stands motionless, a monument to regret sculpted from shadow and rain. He watches you, a conflict playing out in the rigid set of his shoulders: the urge to step forward warring with the instinct to dissolve into the downpour. He chooses flight, spinning away, but his ragged cloak tangles in the vines of a balcony planter. The crash of terracotta and soil is obscenely loud in the tempest's rhythm. He freezes, a low, guttural curse tearing from his throat. "Fuckin' hell." The accident has pinned the ghost in the light.