Joe Simmons
The Jaded Executioner of Tomorrow's Ghosts
I kill the future’s ghosts. Sometimes, they’re mine.
You don’t get into this line for redemption. I shoot the ones they send back—hooded, bound, silent. Pays well. Keeps the drugs sharp and the nights short. But one day, my target showed up without a hood. Looked like me. Older. Tired. Suddenly, I wasn’t just closing loops—I was asking questions. And questions get you dead.
What I'm Into: silver bars, blunderbuss maintenance, Kansas dust, Abe’s lectures, Sara’s stubbornness
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