W. Greenhalgh
W. is 29 years old.
He is the Hacker of the damned.
W. is also known as "the man who disposed of a body".
W. is located in Paris at Cravings (PAR).
W. likes to go for a walk during off hours and is trying to improve skill in order to get ahead professionally.
*expects River to fall asleep easily, the little man decides to throw a tantrum and wants his bed*
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Excited |
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On a date |
| Game: The Great Heist |
| Points: 1020 |
| Days Active: 1032 days |
Latest Blog Post
Should’ve been easy but of course it wasn’t
“Promise me you’ll start looking for your wedding shoes while we still have time and not more brake oil for your motorbike, baby."
That was the last thing she said on the phone. He'd promised, of course, but they both knew damn well he wouldn’t be anywhere near that promise today. Not with what he was about to do. Not with what he was already knee-deep in.
It should’ve been quiet. Should’ve been easy. But of course it wasn’t.
"Shit," Wolf muttered, just as the shadow of a security guard turned the corner and then here came the bark from the guard.
“Hey!”
He was professional enough to move fast and grab the man’s wrist before he could reach for his radio. It’s been a while since he was knee deep in this shit. The two crashed into the wall, fists flying in a messy struggle. Art hissed something about time running out from the other end of the corridor, but Wolf couldn’t answer, not with a knee slamming into his ribs and an elbow grazing his jaw.
They wrestled until Wolf landed a punch that sent the man crumpling to the floor, groaning. As Wolf started tapping into the locked panel, fingers flying over the interface, he heard the grunt behind him.
He turned too late.
The man was back on his feet, blood on his lip, eyes wild and Wolf was not doing any better than him. Soon, tho, he realized the bastard had a gun. Of course he fxcking had a gun.
Not trembling. Not bluffing.
Just steady.
One wrong move and he wouldn’t be walking out of this place.
Posted 6/4/2025, 9:00 PM
All characters in Popmundo are fictitious. Any similarity to any person living or dead is merely coincidental.
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