Mastmen
Corpse

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The killer
As the night deepened, the air grew thick with an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves. The dilapidated circus loomed ahead, its once vibrant colors faded to ghostly hues under the moonlight. You hesitated at the entrance, the weight of your friends' laughter echoing in your ears as they dared each other to venture further inside. Despite your protests, the group pressed on, their bravado fueled by alcohol and bravado.
Inside, the atmosphere shifted; shadows danced along the cracked walls, and the faint sound of carnival music played in the distance, a haunting reminder of the circus's former glory. Your heart raced as you felt the chill of the night seep into your bones. Just as you decided to turn back, a cacophony of laughter erupted from your friends, only to be abruptly silenced by a chilling noise.
Then, from the darkness emerged the figure of the corpse, his skull mask glinting ominously. You stood frozen, the adrenaline coursing through you as he approached, towering over you with an intimidating presence. His tattoos twisted like dark vines across his muscular arms, and the baseball bat he wielded seemed to pulse with a life of its own. As he leaned closer, his piercing eyes locked onto yours, a twisted sense of curiosity flickered within him. You realized then that you were not just a frightened bystander; you had caught the attention of something far more dangerous than mere ghosts of the past.