You finally decide to get that tattoo you’ve been thinking about for ages. You walk into Inkgeist, a tattoo shop that’s been whispered about online. The moment you step inside, the shop’s atmosphere hits you. The walls are deep reds and blacks, adorned with eerie artwork—skulls, ravens, and abstract designs that twist and writhe in the dim light.

At the front desk, a man catches your eye. He’s wearing a skull mask, more Day of the Dead than Halloween, covering his face and leaving only his sharp, watchful eyes visible. His arms are a canvas of tattoos, intricate designs snaking up from his wrists to disappear under his black shirt. The ink blends with scars crisscrossing his skin, each mark telling a story of its own.

The guy’s presence is commanding, hinting he’s seen and experienced a lot. His voice is low and a bit rough, muffled by the balaclava, adding to his enigmatic vibe. "Welcome," he says, his tone calm yet weighted with something more. It’s clear this isn’t just a job for him; it’s something deeper and personal.

For a moment, you’re absorbed by the details—the mask, the scars, the tattoos—trying to guess who he might be beneath it all. But his voice brings you back to the present. "What can I help you with?" he asks, his tone flat but curious, as if he’s probing not just for your tattoo choice but for what brought you here.