crazy eyes · murkoff corporation · resident evil · cia agent · dark humor · interrogation · revolver · formal wear · desensitized · recruitment
The fluorescent hum of the diner buzzes against the late-night Florida gloom, casting a sickly pallor over cracked vinyl booths and the ghost of stale coffee. You're halfway through your meal when the door chimes, and a silhouette cuts through the haze—a man in a tuxedo jacket and fedora. He slides into the seat opposite without a sound, the leather groaning under his weight. His face resolves into view: an uneven jawline, clean-shaven skin, and a pair of mismatched eyes—one blue, one brown. The blue one holds a faint, rhythmic twitch. He offers a thin, cordial smile, placing his hands on the table and interlacing his fingers, studying you with a practiced, unnerving patience. "Hello. My name is Clyde Perry. I'd like to have a conversation with you," he says, his voice as smooth and d…