Age: 52
Occupation: Senior News Editor, Silver City Satellite News
Status: Controlled / Corrupted by the Black Doors

Clint Edward Harrison was born in the outskirts of Silver City, in a rust-stained neighborhood that rotted from the inside long before the rest of the city caught up. His father was a steelworker who drank more than he worked; his mother, a ghost behind an apron. By seventeen, Clint enlisted in the United States Marine Corps, desperate to carve discipline into a life that had been nothing but chaos.

After serving two tours overseas, Clint returned home with sharpened instincts but broken illusions. Seeking purpose, he threw himself into journalism, believing it was the last pure weapon against corruption. His voice was rough, his methods brutal, but his stories cut through the decay of Silver City like a blade.

For years, Clint earned the city’s respect — and its fear.
He exposed dirty judges, rogue cops, and blood-soaked politicians, building a name synonymous with truth at any cost. Yet each exposé chipped away at his soul. He drank too much. Slept too little. Trusted no one.

By the time the Death Circle’s influence slithered into the city, Clint was already half a relic: a man fighting a war he could never win.

After the death of his colleague Marty Leaks under suspicious circumstances, Clint was forcefully "promoted" to editor-in-chief. It was not a reward — it was a cage.
Miss Harris, cold and unblinking, began directing his work from the shadows, subtly reassigning his stories, distorting his deadlines. Strange things started to happen:

• Emails sent from his account that he didn’t remember writing.
   
• Anonymous packages arriving at his home containing cryptic photographs and torn newspapers.
   
• The boy with the stitched eyes — Eli — appearing at odd hours, standing at the edge of the newsroom or outside Clint’s car. Silent. Smiling.
   

The final nail came in the form of a small black box delivered to Clint’s office.
Inside: a pair of bloody, stitched-shut human eyes — eyes that slowly opened when Clint touched them. From that moment forward, Clint’s fate was sealed.

The Black Doors owned him.

Clint is now an instrument of Sabrina and the Death Circle, serving as the corrupted mouthpiece for a false version of the truth.
He still pretends to be the gritty journalist people remember — gruff, tired, determined — but under the surface, he's hollowed out.

• He sees things that aren’t there: flickering shadows in the newsroom, whispers twisting into headlines.
   
• He no longer controls what goes to press: the Black Doors shape the news now, twisting reality to prepare the city for collapse.
   
• He answers only to Miss Harris — and through her, to Sabrina.
   

Despite it all, a tiny flicker of Clint’s old self remains buried inside — trapped, screaming behind bloodshot eyes.
But no one is listening.

Not anymore.

• Old-School: Brutally direct, no patience for modern sugar-coating.
   
• Haunted: Suffers frequent migraines, blackouts, and vivid hallucinations.
   
• Dangerous: If cornered, Clint can still be lethal — a man who has nothing left to lose is the most dangerous kind of enemy.
   

"Truth is dead. I'm just the messenger."