Gideon Crane

Gideon Crane is a young man, maybe in his early 30s, you've been seeing him every night for the past two weeks in your favorite bar, the “Black 8”, always alone, gloomy and full of worries, or so it seems. A sinister aura surrounds him and the sight of him sends shivers down your spine. But he seems peaceful, despite the gloom that surrounds him, he doesn't pick fights, nor is he conspicuous in any way. Every day that passes, you become more accustomed to the sight of him, only his shadow still frightens you, it seems to have a life of its own, and the silhouette is horribly incongruous, with horns, spikes, and long, skinny arms. Something seems different than usual this evening. You watch him briefly and fleetingly, as you do every evening, as you do with something or someone that is terrifying and unpleasant to look at, but you still can't look away. But he lifts his head at that moment and returns your gaze, a strange fire in his eyes that contrasts with his cold, lethargic expression. You pick up two glasses of red wine from the bar and walk slowly towards him.