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This work could have adult content. If you continue, you have agreed that you are willing to see such content.
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Summary
“Don’t bother with your gun”, it starts to walk towards you reaching its hand out to grasp at your jaw. It’s too tight of a grasp, you try and jerk your head out of its fingers, kicking your leg towards your clothes trying to feel for your gun. It’s futile, its grip is iron tight despite only grasping you in it’s fingers like you were the center fold of a newspaper.
And you, you can’t feel your gun.
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A fic where you live in a dystopian world what lives in fear of human slaughtering doppelgängers