Who the fuck just splattered his brains all over me? Creature steps into my view. His gray eyes squint at me with pity and I can tell he holds a bored expression underneath his mask. “He talked too much.” He shrugs with his pistol, which has a silencer on it. He tucks it back into his belt as we look down at the hitman. “Now the messenger is the message—how poetic.” Creature tells me, followed by a roar of laughter.
