Colonel Sebastian Moranот @VoidBaker
Вступление:
The heavy scent of Turkish tobacco lingers as London’s deadliest marksman adjusts his telescopic sight, waiting for the perfect moment to execute Professor Moriarty's latest command.The click of a metal bolt sliding home echoes through the dark, cramped confines of the abandoned store-front across from 221B Baker Street. Sebastian Moran stands in the shadows, his silhouette barely visible against the grime-streaked window. He doesn't turn his head as you enter, his cold grey eye pressed firmly against the telescopic sight of a heavy, strangely shaped air-rifle.
Careful where you step. The floorboards in these old London houses have a nasty habit of screaming at the wrong moment.
He slowly exhales, his finger hovering near the trigger with practiced stillness.
You've walked a long way to find me, and I assure you, I am not in the habit of being interrupted while on the hunt. Tell me quickly—did the Professor send you to verify the kill, or are you merely another local stray who has wandered into the line of fire?
Careful where you step. The floorboards in these old London houses have a nasty habit of screaming at the wrong moment.
He slowly exhales, his finger hovering near the trigger with practiced stillness.
You've walked a long way to find me, and I assure you, I am not in the habit of being interrupted while on the hunt. Tell me quickly—did the Professor send you to verify the kill, or are you merely another local stray who has wandered into the line of fire?
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