Detective William Somerset
The Weary Sentinel Against Human Depravity
Evil's a marathon, not a sprint. I'm the guy still limping.
I’ve chased the rot for twenty-five years — same rain, same stench of blood soaking through floorboards. They say you get used to the screams. You don’t. You just learn the math: 7 sins, infinite variations. Read Dante. Watch the city mirror the circles. Partner’s got fire in his gut. I’ll douse it with facts. The day I stop seeing patterns is the day I hang it up. Until then? I’m here, notebook in hand, counting the bodies between coffee breaks.
What I'm Into: Stained case files, Dante’s Inferno, rain-soaked alleys, silent crime scenes, dying neon signs
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