/// LETRA ///
He walks into Liberty, silent, leather-clad, in black silhouette,
Dragged from Catalina’s betrayal, left for dead.
Bank robbery turned bloodbath, betrayal written in the air,
Shot through the throat and beaten down—but the city didn’t care.

He wakes beside 8-Ball, escapes in the dead of night,
Brooklyn Bridge in flames, a convoy lost in spite.
He trades silence for vengeance, no words escape his lips,
Only action marks his path, as the underworld eclipse.

Catalina flies above in a chopper drenched in neon red,
He fires the shot that ends her reign, revenge is all he’s fed.
From small-time to feared assassin, he builds his urban myth,
Liberty City knows his name… though he never says a word of it.

Silent specter in painted streets, Claude moves through every zone,
No talk, no lies, just cold resolve, in monochrome he roams.
Everywhere he goes, there's something on the scene,
Every job a signature of quiet, ruthless means.

Silent specter…
Betrayal sown by love, redemption found in blood,
Works for every kingpin, turns allies into floods.
He doesn’t need a voice to echo through the night—
Liberty City whispers Claude, an echo of his might.

He spins the city’s factions, Leone, the Yakuza, a Cartel,
Betrays all bosses equally—he’s the empty-handed rebel.
Manipulates a gang war, plants seeds of deadly trust,
Kills Kenji for Donald Love, leaves betrayal turning to dust. 

Cold‑blooded, disloyal, he snickers through gun smoke calm,
Each corpse a stepping‑stone, each payoff in his palm. 
From Triads to Leone’s , with bones he carves his throne,
But vengeance drives him forward—he’s never truly shown.

His past was racing tracks, a garage, street-burning thrills,
But Catalina’s shot stole speech, and liberated his skills. 
Now he’s the ghost behind the wheel, navigating a criminal fate,
No remorse, no mercy—only silence and a loaded hate.

Silent specter in painted streets, Claude moves through every zone,
No talk, no lies, just cold resolve, in monochrome he roams.
Everywhere he goes, there's something on the scene,
Every job a signature of quiet, ruthless means.

Silent specter…
Betrayal sown by love, redemption found in blood,
Works for every kingpin, turns allies into floods.
He doesn’t need a voice to echo through the night—
Liberty City whispers Claude, an echo of his might.

He faces Rusty Brown, Luigi’s mob, Tyson, Joey Leone,
Every contract cuts deeper—he’s his own cornerstone. 
From drug labs drowned in fire, to hitmen in cheap hotels,
Claude reshapes Providence—no one ever hears them yell.

The world records words in headlines, but he carves deeds in blood,
His silence holds more weight than any manifesto could.
Stories adapt to his legend—changed the franchise tone,
All because a silent man could make Liberty his throne. 

Maybe he takes a cab to nowhere, taxi lights his only friend,
Or he simply fades into the night—Liberty’s silent end.

Silent specter in painted streets, Claude moves through every zone,
No talk, no lies, just cold resolve, in monochrome he roams.
Everywhere he goes, there's something on the scene,
Every job a signature of quiet, ruthless means.

Silent specter…
Betrayal sown by love, redemption found in blood,
Works for every kingpin, turns allies into floods.
He doesn’t need a voice to echo through the night—
Liberty City whispers Claude, an echo of his might.

“Just Claude… one word.” 

Midnight Run - Claude Speed

/// LETRA ///
I was born in Caledonia, raised by a curse,
No father, no guidance, just magic and worse.
The DeGroots said I'd be some spell-bound knight—
But all I learned was how to ignite.

At Ullapool, I found my fate,
With a bottle in hand and a thirst for hate.
They said I’d be blind to the man I’d be...
They were right — one eye and TNT.

They taught me the runes, the arcane, the lore,
But I traded it all for the thrill of the war.
Now I'm drunk on revenge and my skrumpy's kiss,
And I blow up regrets I barely miss.

I’m a black Scottish cyclops, exploding your door!
With a belt full o’ bombs and a lust for war!
A toast to the ghosts that I’ve blown apart,
And a curse on the eye that betrayed my heart!

When I laugh, it's thunder — when I rage, it’s hell,
I’ve got demons inside and they drink as well.
You think I'm mad? Well, ye just might be right—
But madness builds kingdoms of the greatest heights.

Soldier’s my brother in chaos and screams,
We share bloody plans and explosive dreams.
I drink to the dead and he shouts to the sky,
Together we charge and forget to ask why.

Spy thinks I’m daft, but I know his game—
He stabs in the dark while I light up a flame.
Pyro just giggles and burns with delight,
But I toast to the madness — we're brothers in fright.

My bottle’s my friend, my launcher’s my bride,
I’ll die in the blast with a grin stretched wide.
No medals, no mercy, no motherly hug,
Just me , the boom and a grave I dug.

I’m a black Scottish cyclops, exploding your door!
With a belt full o’ bombs and a lust for war!
A toast to the ghosts that I’ve blown apart,
And a curse on the eye that betrayed my heart!

When I laugh, it's thunder — when I rage, it’s hell,
I’ve got demons inside and they drink as well.
You think I'm mad? Well, ye just might be right—
But madness builds kingdoms of the greatest heights.

Then came the eye — Monoculus born,
A beast from my socket, twisted and torn.
My hatred took shape, and it knew my name,
A cyclopean curse in an eyeball's fame.

He stole my vision, but left me sight,
Of war, of loss, of endless fight.
A cursed reflection, a bleeding orb,
Still, I aim it,  true — and I never resolved.

I've seen RED rise and BLU men fall,
Watched friends turn ghostly from one wrong call.
But I'm still standing, scarred and loud—
The one-eyed bastard that makes his mum proud.

I’m a black Scottish cyclops, exploding your door!
With a belt full o’ bombs and a lust for war!
A toast to the ghosts that I’ve blown apart,
And a curse on the eye that betrayed my heart!

When I laugh, it's thunder — when I rage, it’s hell,
I’ve got demons inside and they drink as well.
You think I'm mad? Well, ye just might be right—
But madness builds kingdoms of the greatest heights.

"KA-BOOM!…"

Explosive Cyclops - The Demoman

/// LETRA ///
Welcome friends, to the finest bake,
I'll whisk your soul for a Wondertart’s sake.
A loving chef with whisk in hand,
But deeper plots stir in the pan.

Gather berries bright, sugar snow-white,
Limes that glow under my kitchen's light.
Each ingredient fuels my dream,
Yet lies hide a darker scheme.

When Chalice stirs with her astral bite,
I smile and say “We’ll make it right.”
But too well known is chef's sly game—
That secret spice: a soul to claim.

Whisk it fast, don’t lose the beat,
The recipe is near complete!
One soul to stir, one heart to bind,
And all shall rise with crust in mind! 

No second chance, no time to bake,
The sweetest dreams are those we break.
With powdered lies and candied screams,
I’ll plate your fate and frost your dreams.

Marinating your defeat, i'll take what's mine,
As sugar cubes dance, and salt shakers fly.
My humble apron turns to a cloak,
Each parry object fuels my oven's smoke.

A mushroom bloats me to giant size,
Pepper shakers sneeze received a surprise.
Gnome berries scream as they take flight,
In my bakery’s descending fight.

Salt pours forth once glass is cracked,
My salted heart begins attack.
Clones of salt dance floor and sky,
Till saw-blades grind with a chef’s sly eye.

Whisk it fast, don’t lose the beat,
The recipe is near complete!
One soul to stir, one heart to bind,
And all shall rise with crust in mind! 

No second chance, no time to bake,
The sweetest dreams are those we break.
With powdered lies and candied screams,
I’ll plate your fate and frost your dreams.

Redemption’s promise in my plea—
But power’s spice corrupted me.
Sins undone in post-trial grace,
Community toil to save my face.

Rebuilt ovens hot with hope,
I knead atonement in each loaf.
No longer will I bake with greed,
But feed brave hearts with tiny seeds.

Now Cuphead smiles, Chalice is whole,
Mugman cheers at my doughy goal.
A humble baker, no dark desire,
I serve with love, not burning fire.

Whisk it fast, don’t lose the beat,
The recipe is near complete!
One soul to stir, one heart to bind,
And all shall rise with crust in mind! 

No second chance, no time to bake,
The sweetest dreams are those we break.
With powdered lies and candied screams,
I’ll plate your fate and frost your dreams.

“Welcome back…We're ready to...bake...”

Here's your Meal - Chef Saltbaker

/// LETRAS ///
Me levanto entre grietas, con traje de oferta,
el café me amenaza y mi alma está muerta.
No soy detective ni matón de libreta,
solo barro el espanto... y recoloco puertas.

Big Jim me señala, me grita entre huesos,
y yo finjo que entiendo sus códigos gruesos.
Pero yo sólo limpio, me callo sus pesos,
y escondo reliquias en muebles traviesos.

Barro intestinos como quien lava platos,
tachando cadáveres de mis contratos.
Silbo entre vísceras, cuento zapatos,
y guardo en la bolsa relojes baratos.

La sangre me guiña desde la cortina,
yo silbo una rumba, me guardo propina.
Dexter me observa desde la cocina,
y Elena respira… mi causa divina.

No soy sacerdote, ni santo con maña,
pero limpio tragedias con mopa y con saña.
Me quedo con arte, botellas, nada sencillo,
y si sobra un Rolex, para mi bolsillo.

El ozonizador tapa el tufo a trauma,
yo friego en silencio, sin drama ni jauma.
Si huelo a cerebro, me pongo la bauma,
y pienso en Elena… hija solo tengo una.

En la escena hay un niño… o tal vez un abrigo,
mi reflejo en el charco me guiña sencillo.
Recojo billetes, quito testigo,
y al cerrar el contrato, sonrío ambiguo.

Mi historia no importa, ni el pasado en prisión,
la mafia no juzga, tendré redención?
Mi esposa en un marco, mi hija en tensión,
mi vida es trapear… y huir de la atención.

La sangre me guiña desde la cortina,
yo silbo una rumba, me guardo propina.
Dexter me observa desde la cocina,
y Elena respira… mi causa divina.

No soy sacerdote, ni santo con maña,
pero limpio tragedias con mopa y con saña.
Me quedo con arte, botellas, nada sencillo,
y si sobra un Rolex, para mi bolsillo.

Recogí un anillo con forma de pez,
lo metí en mi bolsillo, nadie lo ve.
El cadáver no habla, el muerto no es juez,
yo barro el final… y empiezo otra vez.

La radio murmura que soy criminal,
pero el parquet reluce, ¿eso está mal?
Pueden llamarme parásito o banal,
pero Elena sonríe… y eso es vital.

No quiero medallas ni mi nombre en mural,
me basta un hogar sin moho industrial.
Quizá esté podrido, quizá marginal,
pero nadie deja el piso tan celestial.

La sangre me guiña desde la cortina,
yo silbo una rumba, me guardo propina.
Dexter me observa desde la cocina,
y Elena respira… mi causa divina.

No soy sacerdote, ni santo con maña,
pero limpio tragedias con mopa y con saña.
Me quedo con arte, botellas, nada sencillo,
y si sobra un Rolex, para mi bolsillo.

“El crimen no duerme... pero yo siempre estoy para fregarlo.”

Limpiador de Pecados - Kovalsky [Bonus Track]

/// LETRA ///
Desde el polvo emergió con furia animal,
huérfano en guerra, sin miedo al final.
De la calle al cuadrilátero infernal,
con la máscara al cielo, su grab es letal.

Del callejón salió oliendo a derrota,
con los nudillos partidos por cuota.
Aprendió el rezo con base que azota,
su dios es el ring, su templo, la bota.

La lona vibró al girar su giant swing,
el público gritó ante su fuerza en el ring.
Ataca con furia cuando suena el ding,
y con cada golpe el públio clama

¡King! ¡King! ¡King!

El público se enciende, ruge como tormenta,
puños de hierro, una lucha violenta.
Desde la esquina el rey se levanta,
grito de lucha, su furia no falta.

¡King! ¡King! ¡King!

Entre cuerdas hay sangre en la arena,
guerrero santo que enfrenta condena.
El ring es su templo, la lucha su fe,
"Y ahí viene el pin...Uno...Dos...¡Tres!"

King I cayó ante Ogre, una brutal verdad,
su mascarada calló frente a inmortalidad.
Pero otro niño la fue a heredar,
y fundió su puño con la misma santidad.

King II entrenó con Armor King, fue brutal,
forjó músculos y calma para revancha dar.
Con Marduk frente a frente se plantó sin matar,
porque el perdón vale más que la venganza al final.

Levanta pesos imposibles, rompe un corazón,
una fusión de furia y compasión.
En cada pelea, guía su devoción,
protegido por el jaguar, músculo y la razón.

¡King! ¡King! ¡King!

El público se enciende, ruge como tormenta,
puños de hierro, una lucha violenta.
Desde la esquina el rey se levanta,
grito de lucha, su furia no falta.

¡King! ¡King! ¡King!

Entre cuerdas hay sangre en la arena,
guerrero santo que enfrenta condena.
El ring es su templo, la lucha su fe,
"Y ahí viene el pin...Uno...Dos...¡Tres!"

Su gigantesco swing rompe cuerpos sin ver,
cada fibra de su pecho exuda poder.
Es santo y fuerza en el aquí y el ayer,
un jaguar que lucha por crecer y proteger.

Niños celebran su rostro sin rostro,
con puños benditos por un duro costo.
Él no habla, ruge como animal justo,
la máscara es leyenda… y el líder robusto.

Cuando avance su música, tiemblan los fanales,
la arena se tiñe de golpes, leyendas y males.
Porque King camina con pasos gigantes,
y prepárate cuando se pone los guantes.

¡King! ¡King! ¡King!

El público se enciende, ruge como tormenta,
puños de hierro, una lucha violenta.
Desde la esquina el rey se levanta,
grito de lucha, su furia no falta.

¡King! ¡King! ¡King!

Entre cuerdas hay sangre en la arena,
guerrero santo que enfrenta condena.
El ring es su templo, la lucha su fe,
"Y ahí viene el pin...Uno...Dos...¡Tres!"

Rugido del campeón - King

/// LETRA ///
They found Talbot scribbling a script on the wall,
etched with trembling claws where sanity dared to fall.
A monk’s hand laid him bare with it's palm,
The Entity whispers vowed salvation, but delivered him as thrall.

He was once a chemist chasing luminous bloom,
crafted a nectar from petals to escape an impending doom.
With clandestine trials on killers in a lab’s rancid gloom,
each injection a heartbeat fractured—murdered in full.

A rat bit his marrow, shared an inanimate breath,
and Talbot felt the serum pulse in his veins, already numb with death.
Addiction blurred his memory, now cleaving to its wreath,
the fog claimed him—he became The Blight, undone beneath.

He carved: “Death is only the beginning,”
Yet emptiness filled the void he was sinking in.
The alchemist became the pest, his own flesh corroding ever‑thin,
trapped in The Entity’s cruel design where sorrow’s cycle rings.

Talbot’s ambition birthed his prison, his serum tasted his fall,
He sought liberation yet birthed an abomination for all.
Now he chokes on pulsing pustulas, his humanity a stalled sprawl,
A broken vessel haunted by his craving’s final call.

In memory logs he saw Vigo’s journal—half‑torn, incomplete,
The missing pages birthed a doom he’d endlessly repeat.
He captured killers to test the dosage with deceit,
Each compound brewed obsession, each rush a poisonous beat.

He remembered whispered truths behind sacred halls,
A smile cracked like the ceiling with fading resolve.
And when they dumped him in that den of wasted souls and pall,
His notes gone, he carved his flesh and his mind dissolved.

In The Entity’s realm he hunted hope with serum as his guide,
With injection he twisted minds until identities died.
Now he rushes off walls like a pinballed soul inside,
Talbot buried, The Blight emerging where memories hide.

He carved: “Death is only the beginning,”
Yet emptiness filled the void he was sinking in.
The alchemist became the pest, his own flesh corroding ever‑thin,
trapped in The Entity’s cruel design where sorrow’s cycle rings.

Talbot’s ambition birthed his prison, his serum tasted his fall,
He sought liberation yet birthed an abomination for all.
Now he chokes on pulsing pustulas, his humanity a stalled sprawl,
A broken vessel haunted by his craving’s final call.

He once believed in altering nature, in saving humankind,
But it just purged his body also poisoned his mind.
The Entity lurks in the blossom he tried so hard to find,
Gifted him addiction instead—a fate cruelly designed.

Now, in trials he rushes like a ghost, a chemical shadow’s dance,
His form grotesque, blistered by petals of vain romance.
He recalls only fragments: hunger, serum, a mad trance—
Talbot buried beneath The Blight, swallowed by his chance.

Some say Talbot still exists inside that corrupted beast,
A flicker fighting to escape a prison of savage feast.
Yet each bloom ensures his suffering won’t cease,
His legacy a warning: genius undone, never in peace.

“He chased the cure—and became the plague.”

He carved: “Death is only the beginning,”
Yet emptiness filled the void he was sinking in.
The alchemist became the pest, his own flesh corroding ever‑thin,
trapped in The Entity’s cruel design where sorrow’s cycle rings.

Talbot’s ambition birthed his prison, his serum tasted his fall,
He sought liberation yet birthed an abomination for all.
Now he chokes on pulsing pustulas, his humanity a stalled sprawl,
A broken vessel haunted by his craving’s final call.

He Who Burns the Cure - The Blight

/// LETRA ///
"Pull it... foil it... sleeve it... bliss."

You walk in the door, shelves glow with cardboard dreams,
Booster after booster, chasing holo gleams.
The bell chimes low—customers shuffle in teams,
Coin flips, sleeve clinks, building shop‑floor schemes.

Price at margin, boost stock flow,
Keep the stinky ones two tiles below.
Poster art modded, cards in a row,
That Tetramon rare? Not letting it go.

NPC offers, weird and bold,
Trades you foil for a slab of mold.
Countertop sticky, the AC's cold,
But business is up and your shelf's pure gold.

Tetramon packs pop open in your haze,
Rare card in the deck — leaving you to amaze.
Booster bliss, trading kicks, strategy and praise,
In your cozy TCG shop you spend Saturdays.

Holofoil shine in a booster box,
you frame that pull like a trophy, bro.
Buy low, sell high, let the meta flow,
This binder life’s got that pro‑shop glow.

You save the rares, you flip the bulk,
Track price trends in a spreadsheet hulk.
Tournament night, your regulars talk,
Deck tech wars and cardboard chalk.

Open packs with a trembling hand,
Praying for foil from the booster band.
A ghost-type holo from a cursed brand—
You price it high, and they still demand.

Staff restock with minor flair,
Knock over plushies without a care.
But they sleeve like pros, so you let it spare,
And customers love that nostalgic air.

Tetramon packs pop open in your haze,
Rare card in the deck — leaving you to amaze.
Booster bliss, trading kicks, strategy and praise,
In your cozy TCG shop you spend Saturdays.

Holofoil shine in a booster box,
you frame that pull like a trophy, bro.
Buy low, sell high, let the meta flow,
This binder life’s got that pro‑shop glow.

"Hahaha, let's go to the card shop and duel...!!!" [Distant laugther]

Stockroom's chaos, but you know the zone,
Rtacking ultrarare pulls like a cardboard throne.
You built this shop with cards alone,
Now you rule the weekend 'cause it’s well-known.

Display case glows, the fridge hums light,
Snack bar pops, and sleeves snap tight.
That kid pulled gold, eyes pure delight—
You remember that feeling, pure and bright.

So you clock out slow, mop the floor,
Update your wishlist, restock some more.
Life in a shop with your heart as core,
Where decks get shuffled...A legend's store.

Tetramon packs pop open in your haze,
Rare card in the deck — leaving you to amaze.
Booster bliss, trading kicks, strategy and praise,
In your cozy TCG shop you spend Saturdays.

Holofoil shine in a booster box,
you frame that pull like a trophy, bro.
Buy low, sell high, let the meta flow,
This binder life’s got that pro‑shop glow.

"Collect… trade… dream… bliss..."

One Booster at a Time - TCG Card Shop Sim [Bonus Track]

I am Groot [Bonus Track]

/// LETRA ///
Born in chains, I begged for glory,
Ares carved my name in story.
Blades in hand, I burned my fate,
The Ghost of Sparta sealed by hate.

I led with fury, I struck with pride,
But left my wife and child to die.
Their ashes clung to skin and soul—
Now rage is all I ever hold.

The gods above, they watched me fall,
Then used my blood to feed their call.
No mercy came, no light was shown—
I forged a kingdom made of bone.

No more gods to chain my breath,
No more lies dressed up as death.
I tore their thrones from sky to stone,
I am the end they should have known.

No more oaths, no more regret,
I wear my sins, I pay my debt.
They wrote me off as beast, as war—
But I’m the storm they can’t ignore.

Poseidon's blood blackened the tide,
I crushed the sea and watched it die.
Helios screamed as I took the sun,
His golden head came undone.

Hermes ran — but I took his speed,
And left him broken, begging, plead.
Hades fell into the deep,
Where even death forgot to weep.

I faced the Fates, I shattered time,
Defied Olympus, climbed and climbed.
Pandora’s flame inside me burned,
But gods don't care what mortals learn.

No more gods to chain my breath,
No more lies dressed up as death.
I tore their thrones from sky to stone,
I am the end they should have known.

No more oaths, no more regret,
I wear my sins, I pay my debt.
They wrote me off as beast, as war—
But I’m the storm they can’t ignore.

I saw Athena rot with grace,
Still tried to guilt me with her face.
But gods breed monsters with their games,
And I burned down their holy flames.

Cronos cried beneath my heel,
His titan bones my blade could feel.
Even Gaia turned her back,
So I carved my path in black.

Then Zeus… the father, fraud, and fear—
I killed him slow, I made it clear.
He stole my soul, my will, my voice—
But dying by my hand was his last choice.

No more gods to chain my breath,
No more lies dressed up as death.
I tore their thrones from sky to stone,
I am the end they should have known.

No more oaths, no more regret,
I wear my sins, I pay my debt.
They wrote me off as beast, as war—
But I’m the storm they can’t ignore.

“I am no god… I am what gods fear.”

God of War - Kratos [Greek Saga]

From a turret's perspective.

/// LETRA ///
I’ve seen you stroll in, all polish and poise,
Atlas steady, P-Body full of noise.
Doors that whisper, floors that sigh,
and places you fall… oh, so high.

Buttons wait for careful feet to press,
while somewhere above… well, you’ll guess.
Ping, jump, vanish through the blue,
what happens next is between me and you.

Oh Atlas and P-Body, my favorite view,
two test subjects, shiny and new.
Through light and shadow, through silence and flame,
you’re smiling ‘cause losing still feels like a game.

Oh Atlas and P-Body, I wish I could go,
to drift through the air in that portal show.
But I’ll stay in my corner, just humming along,
while you pass the next test to my turret song.

A cube drifts past, then it’s gone from sight,
the floor here’s thinner than it looks—just right.
Funnels twist, the air feels strange,
you’re moving fast through a shifting range.

We hum in time to the chamber’s tone,
you never quite walk the way you’re shown.
Some find the end, some never start,
I’m certain you’ll play your part.

Oh Atlas and P-Body, my favorite view,
two test subjects, polished and true.
Through beams that hum, through traps without name,
you’re smiling ‘cause danger’s just part of the game.

Oh Atlas and P-Body, I wish I could go,
to spin through the air in that portal show.
But I’ll stay in my corner, still humming along,
while you pass the next test to my turret song.

The plates will fling, the lights will fade,
you’ll hear a sound that someone made.
Faith leaps high, a door unlocks,
I count the seconds, tick by tick, clock by clock.

She speaks above, her voice so dry,
and you keep moving, though you don’t know why.
Still, I’m here, my aim held true,
watching, waiting, smiling… for you.

Oh Atlas and P-Body, my favorite view,
two test subjects, shiny and new.
Through steel and silence, through puzzles and flame,
you’re smiling ‘cause ending still feels like a game.

Oh Atlas and P-Body, I wish I could go,
to fly through the air in that portal show.
But I’ll stay in my corner, forever along,
while you pass the next test to my turret song.

Goodbye...

Partner Puzzles - P-Body & Atlas [Bonus Track]

I write, i direct, i decide, it simply generates. Ai song maker for fun an my own enjoyment, you don't have to like it :)

One Booster at a Time - TCG Card Shop Sim [Bonus Track]

KnightKakashi

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