The PS4’s fan screamed. Eli’s blood went cold. The character wasn’t supposed to break the fourth wall. But The Gunslingers BDMV had no script, no director, no production company. It was just… there.
He heard a sound behind him. Not footsteps. A slide rack. The click of a revolver cylinder seating into place.
The disc tray ejected itself. The silver surface of The Gunslingers BDMV was no longer a mirror. It showed his room, his desk, his trembling hands—and the figure standing in his doorway. Duster coat. Hat low. Obsidian eyes.