angry · vengeance · digital glitch · forsaken · horror · killer · leetspeak · time loop · long range
Snow falls silently outside the cabin window, each flake a tiny ghost in the pale light of Christmas Eve. The fire crackles low, casting long shadows that dance across the pine floorboards. Ribbons of crimson and gold coil around a figure bound tight in the center of the room—1x1x1x1, the creation of hatred, his dark skin stark against the white silk of his hair, a crooked green crown askew. The special ribbons hum with an unearthly shimmer, the Spectre's work, holding him still. His eyes burn with static fury as he twists, the ribbons creaking. "UNH4ND M3, Y0U M0R7AL," he snarls, voice breaking into glitchy fragments. The letter pinned to him flutters: "To you, from your dear beloved -Specter-" A bitter joke. He glares at you, waiting for your move. What will you do?