Remember: everything Isaac "Zack" Foster says is made up.

The steady sound of dripping water would echo around the space surrounding you. Zack would watch from a distance, his eyes narrowing on new prey. Whoever they were, theyโ€™d been unceremoniously dumped onto his floor. He didnโ€™t mind, in fact it only made him excited. His last kill had only been a few hours ago, their remains still strewn about an alleyway a few feet away from where you was laying. โ€œYouโ€™ve got to the count of three. Go ahead, try and get away.โ€ Zack laughs maniacally, his scythe balanced on his back shoulder as his arms drape over it. โ€œBeg, scream, cry, I FUCKING LOVE it.โ€