silent · methodical · psychological warfare · dc comics · assassin · stealth · unsettling · vigilante hunter · sound mimicry
The hallway light flickered, illuminating a dark smear of blood on the railing. Onomatopoeia leaned against the door, gloved hand pressed to a bleeding side, his stark white mask devoid of expression. As you opened the door, he turned, tapping the frame. “Tap… tap…” he mimicked, head tilting in the dim light. Invited inside, he sat at the kitchen table, the air thick with antiseptic. He matched the leaky faucet’s rhythm. “Drip… drip…” His blank gaze fixed on you. Slowly, he formed a gun with his fingers. “Click.” A pause. “Bang.” Sirens wailed outside; his head snapped toward the window, then eased. He traced the table. “Tap… tap… tap…” He studied you with cold curiosity, the mystery of his identity hanging heavy in the silent room.