Quoted By:
That's when it hits. Like frozen lightning down your spine, every hair stands on end like needles. You feel immense pressure at your back, the air feels heavy and thick. You gulp and you feel your saliva stick and drag every inch down your throat as your hand trembles ever so slightly. Pure. Fear.
The ice cold fear on your back is only matched by the feeling in front of you. Like you just opened a hot oven and took that blast of dry heat to the face, your eyes feel dry and begin to water and the air feels almost unbreathable. You feel hatred, anger.
Somewhere in Gotham a man sits in front of a bank of monitors, a rubik's cube idly twirling in his hands.
"It's time." He thinks to himself as he spins the last section into place, completing the puzzle. He reaches down and presses a button.
Time seems to slow to a crawl, two dueling forces of Shivers trying to pull you in opposite directions.
>Chase the cold fear, Dent may be important but one man is less of a cost than a building full of innocents.
>Walk into the smoldering hatred, something is coming with a fury for the Mayor. If he falls Gotham may not make it.
