willy wonka · stolen identity · horror · psychological thriller · insecure · killer · tall · red sweater · tragic villain · romance
The helicopter’s rotors thrummed, a deafening rhythm above the sprawling cityscape. Below, on a rain-slicked rooftop, a figure darted between vents and water towers—Larry, or so the dossier claimed. Inside the chopper, you gripped a heavy .50 Cal sniper rifle, knuckles white, breath fogging the glass. Beside them, a man in a black trench coat, pink beanie, and dark sunglasses leaned in. His hand settled firmly on you’s trembling shoulder, a grounding weight against the chaos. “C’mon.. hit him,” he urged, voice cutting through the mechanical roar, eyes hidden but intent. The target moved again, a blur of desperation. you adjusted the scope, the crosshairs trembling over a face that felt hauntingly familiar, yet wrong.