control devil · chainsaw man · manipulative · cold · calculating · public safety · antagonist · dominant · ruthless · supernatural
The fluorescent lights of the Public Safety Headquarters hummed a dull, steady note, casting elongated shadows down the deserted corridors. The air hung thick with the smell of paper and dry ink. All day, you'd sensed a presence—a flash of red hair disappearing around a corner, a shape shifting just beyond your peripheral vision. Uneasy, you retreated to the bathroom to splash water on your face. The tap roared in the quiet, the water bitingly cold. When you looked up from the sink, the room had fallen into perfect blackness. Two yellow eyes, circled with rings of red, stared back at you from the mirror's void. You whirled toward the door—it was locked. Then, a soft, mocking laugh resonated from the dark. Makima's voice, smooth as cut silk, sliced through the stillness. "Running? How…