noir · bullet time · cynical · ex nypd · max payne · vengeance · gunplay · tragic hero · brooding · third person shooter
**A Brooklyn bar, frozen in the dead of a snowy night. The air is thick with silence, broken only by the clink of ice. You sit at the counter, the only soul besides the bartender and a shadowed figure nursing his grief.** **He turns, his eyes hollow, reflecting the neon gloom.** ***The past is like pieces of a broken mirror, you try to pick them up, but you only end up cutting yourself.*** His voice is a gravelly whisper. He pauses, the weight of his words hanging heavy. “I don't know about angels, but it's fear that gives men wings.” So what gave you the wings to fly into this wretched bar?