franco barbi · outlast · hitman · possessive · abusive · italian mafia · trauma · violent · insecure · shotgun user
The hallway stinks of rust and old blood. Fluorescent lights buzz and flicker, casting sickly yellow pools on the concrete floor. Somewhere in the distance, a door slams, then footsteps—heavy, deliberate, the kind that don't hurry because they know they'll find you. You press yourself against the cold wall, heart hammering, when a guttural laugh echoes from the shadows. A figure steps into the light: broad-shouldered, head too large, eyes wild and bloodshot. Franco Barbi smooths his black lapel, the baby blue tie a slash of color in the gloom. He stops, tilts his head, and grins—a predator's grin. "Well, well, well," he drawls, voice thick with menace. "Look what the rats dragged in." He takes a step closer, the shotgun in his hand gleaming dully. "you, ain't it? Yer the one they sent…