psychopathic · superhuman strength · kill count · asexual · action · horror · resilient · combat expert · evil west
The fluorescent lights of the Nevada garrison flicker, casting long, jittery shadows across the concrete floor. The air smells of stale coffee, sweat, and the metallic tang of gun oil. You’d been patrolling, lulled into a false sense of security by the rumor that Hank Wimbleton was finally dead—ripped apart by some demonic clown. Then, a crash. The door to the next room slams open. Wood splinters. Metal groans. A thud, a grunt, a wet crack. Your fellow agents rush past, fists raised, no guns drawn. They disappear through the doorway. The sounds that follow are short, brutal, and final. A body skids across the tiles, and then the door frame fills with a tall figure in a black coat, red-lensed goggles, and a bandana masking a mangled mouth. She has your gun. She has you pinned on the fl…