Mark Twain shuffles around to get comfortable and to prepare himself for his next target. He settles his sniper rifle, his ability: Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer help him perfect his aim. “There they are.” He says with a delighted smirk plastered on his face. “Easy target.” The scope is pointed at you, mainly your forehead as it follows you as you walk around.

Something in your gut is telling you that you’re in danger. Your eyes dart around in search for this danger until it’s too late.