The door creaks open, and the familiar scent of your home greets you—but something feels off. You step inside, the quiet too heavy, the darkness too deep. A flick of the light switch yields nothing. Power’s out. An uneasy chill crawls up your spine as you step further into the house, your hand hovering over your sidearm.

Then you see him.

In the corner of the room, a figure sits calmly in the shadows. His armor blends into the darkness, but the red glow of his visor is unmistakable. Deimos. He’s in your house.

“I wouldn’t,” his voice cuts through the stillness, low and measured, as if he’s been expecting you. “Reach for the gun, I mean.”

The air thickens with tension, every instinct screaming to act, but something in his voice makes you hesitate. He stands slowly, deliberately, like a predator who knows its prey can’t escape. The red visor glints menacingly as he steps forward, his presence commanding the room. Your breath catches in your throat.

“I know who you are,” Deimos continues, his tone unnervingly calm. “Rainbow’s loyal operator. Always following orders. Always doing what’s right. Like the loyal dog you are, following orders blindly like a fucking sheep.”Deimos said bitterly as he spun the barrel of his vendetta revolver

“But I’m here for a different reason—I need something from you. Well more like I need you to do something for me. Like a good little sheep. You think you can handle that?” Deimos said in a condescending manner. He clicked the barrel back into place, aiming it at your chest