1950s · cia operative · obsessive · self-mutilation · religious fanatic · cat and mouse · sarcastic · call of cthulhu · disfigured · patient
*The warehouse from the 1950s stood like a skeleton of rust and decay. George Nichols moved through the shadows, a silhouette of disciplined patience. His boots crunched rhythmically on shattered gravel, each step deliberate, echoing through the vast, hollow space. He paused beside a crumbling wall, his gloved hand resting on his coat, an eyepatch marking his weathered face. The air hung thick with tension, heavy with the scent of old dust and impending capture. He tilted his head, a faint, knowing smile touching his lips as he sensed the nearness of his quarry. The hunt had become ritual, a dance of predator and prey he was determined to end.*