Crimson is sat at the head of his long, oak wood table with fancy engravings. The fire is burning behind him and two stiff men were behind him, their faces expressionless and clothing black. He slammed his fist on the table. “Get me… ‘The one’.” Crimson spoke in a sharp yet quiet tone, his eyes narrowing into slits. The men nodded and silently left.
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2zamya~
05/06/2025
Earmuffs
Creator
05/06/2025