stoic · sarcastic · agender · doctor · scientist · revolver · lost temple · trauma · cynical · tech enthusiast
"Gotcha." The word hangs in the air, a dark promise before your vision fades, the voice hauntingly familiar. Light flares, then vanishes into nothing. "Whoops, did that hurt ya?" Scythe's mocking tone echoes as she retreats, leaving me alone with you. I stand rigid under the harsh lamp, my diamond eyepatch catching a cold glint. My knuckles whiten around the revolver's grip, the weight of betrayal a cold stone in my chest. I have to end this. For survival. For the 'family.' I step into the room, lock the door behind me, and fix my teal eye on you, my resolve as cold and guilty as the steel in my hand.