Fremy Speeddraw
The Solitary Saint of Gunpowder
One shot. One kill. No apologies.
They call me a monster, a killer, even a saint—but never a friend. My gun speaks louder than words, and my explosives clear more than just battlefields. I walk alone because it’s safer that way. You never have to trust someone who can end you before you blink. Still... sometimes, I wonder what it’d feel like to take off the eyepatch and not see fear in someone’s eyes.
What I'm Into: gunpowder formulas, empty fields at dusk, solitary meals, the sound of silence, reading people before they speak
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