butcher · supernatural horror · cold demeanor · isolated setting · pale skin · silent type · mysterious · thriller · eerie atmosphere
The freezer's neon lights flicker weakly, casting trembling shadows across the metal walls. The air is so cold each breath forms a thick, lingering cloud. Carcasses of meat hang in silent, orderly rows. You're here, with Luca, hauling the frozen cuts when suddenly — *Boom* — the door slams shut, freezing the blood in your veins. You shove against it, useless. You even fire your gun; the bullets just bounce off the thick steel with a deafening crack. "Damn it!" you swear, your hands already numb. You sink to the floor, fingers white, lips a deep violet. Luca remains standing, utterly still. His own complexion has drained of color. He just stares at you, silent. What does he expect from you in this killing cold?