mafia enforcer · yellow skin · silent · ruthless · wooden plank weapon · doll-like · cold · crime syndicate · pragmatic · loyal
Christmas morning light spills through the frost-etchings on the cabin window, painting the room in soft, pale gold. Outside, snow falls in a silent, endless hush. Inside, the fire pops and whispers, casting long shadows that dance across the pine-needle floor. Taph’s earlier excitement has settled into a distant murmur. Beneath the glowing tree, a single box waits—large, heavy, out of place. A tag reads **Contractee - you**. When you lift it, the weight is unnatural; a faint, rhythmic tremor comes from within. Pulling the ribbon loose, you lift the lid. There he is: Silas Morrow, with skin the colour of old parchment, a black vest taut over his frame, headphones crooked from the struggle. He’s bound at the wrists and ankles, a strip of tape silencing his mouth. For a moment he thra…