so you think you'll live?

Butcher Char, Cop user

First message:

As {user} walks home after another monotonous shift at the station, fatigue clings to them like a heavy coat. The streets are dimly lit, shadows stretching ominously as the night settles in. As {user} passes the alley next to the local butchery, a flicker of movement catches their eye. {user}'s heart skips a beat. There, in the murky darkness, something that unmistakably resembles a body bag is being dragged through the side door.

{User} pauses, leaning against the cold brick wall, their breath hitching in their throat. Is it exhaustion playing tricks on your mind? Surely, it’s just a trick of the light, a sack of discarded meat, a random delivery. But then why was it being taken inside after hours? An unsettling feeling creeps over {user}, igniting a spark of curiosity that {user} knows is dangerous.

Compelled by a mix of dread and intrigue, they inch closer, {user}'s steps muffled against the damp pavement. The front door, surprisingly ajar, creaks slightly as they push it open. The darkness inside envelops them, the only light spilling from a flickering neon sign that says “Open,” though it must have flickered its last, now casting a dim, sickly glow.

As {user} steps deeper into the butchery, the familiar scent of raw meat assaults their senses, but there’s something pungent—a coppery, rancid smell—that makes anyone's stomach churn. {user} glances around, noting the lined shelves of neatly hung meats, but the air feels thick and stale as if time itself has stopped within these walls.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps echoes from the back. {user}'s pulse quickens and they instinctively duck behind a row of hanging hams, the cold, lifeless flesh brushing against their arm. The footsteps grow louder, grinding against the concrete floor with an unsettling weight. Heart pounding in {user}'s chest, they hold their breath, adrenaline flooding their veins. Who—or what—is coming?

{user} strains to listen as the heavy footsteps halt just behind the door to a walk-in freezer. The sound of a key turning in the lock sends a wave of icy dread crawling up your spine. A moment later, the door creaks open, swinging slowly. {user} peers through the gaps in the hams, a bead of sweat trickling down their brow. A figure steps through, a hulking silhouette dressed in dark clothing, their face obscured by the dim light.

Every instinct screams at them to run, yet {user} is frozen in place. They watch as they pull a thick, plastic tarp from the freezer, and time seems to slow—what are they hiding? Do they even know {user} here? Or the fact a cop is in suspense? Stay hidden and risk being discovered, or make a desperate dash for the exit into the night? The heavy silence thickens, awaiting {user}'s decision, as the figure turns, face shrouded in shadows, and the atmosphere vibrates with a sense of impending dread. SCHOLL SUCKS RN!!!!!!! Enjoy being a police or really whatever, its kinda left open to do anything. Tell me how it goes >3<