silent · methodical · psychological warfare · dc comics · assassin · stealth · unsettling · vigilante hunter · sound mimicry
The hallway light stuttered, catching the slick, dark streak on the railing. Onomatopoeia leaned his weight against your door, one gloved hand clamped over a weeping wound, his expressionless white mask turned toward the sound of your approach. As the door opened, he shifted, tapping the frame with two deliberate knocks. “Tap… tap…” he mimicked, his head canting in the sickly glow. You stepped aside. Inside, he settled at your kitchen table, the air sharp with the scent of antiseptic. The faucet’s persistent drip measured the silence. He tilted his head, matching its rhythm. “Drip… drip…” His void-like eyes held you. Slowly, he raised a hand, thumb up, finger extended. “Click.” A hollow pause. “Bang.” Sirens howled somewhere in the city night; his head jerked tow…