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Description
made with Bing image creator

This one was wished (if you also have a idea look at my posts)

prompt: (works very good)

one male with a gas mask hazmatsuit and a handsprayer, 5 young brasilien female scream and cover ger mouth with one hand, inside a gym, green fog, the female wear gym clothes sportbra shiny leggins some crawl, he sprays at them, basement

(possible addition: "looking at eachother")

Possible story:
(Its kinda dark and im not sure if this is to much)

**Title: The Exterminator's Contract**

In the dimly lit alley behind a nondescript warehouse, the Exterminator adjusted his hazmat suit. His real name was lost to the shadows, replaced by the moniker that echoed through the criminal underworld: the Exterminator. He specialized in eliminating pests—both the six-legged kind and the two-legged kind. His services were for hire, and sometimes, the highest bidder came from the darkest corners.

Today, the contract was different. The client was a rival cartel, and their problem wasn't drugs or territory—it was a training outpost. A place where young recruits learned the art of violence, honing their skills to become efficient killers. The Exterminator had seen it all: drug lords, corrupt politicians, and now, these would-be assassins.

He stepped out of his van, the metal creaking under his weight. The moon hung low, casting elongated shadows across the cracked pavement. The warehouse loomed ahead, its windows boarded up, secrets hidden within. The Exterminator adjusted the gas mask over his face, the rubber edges sealing tightly against his skin. His gloved hand gripped the canister of gas—a weapon of his own design.

As he approached the entrance, he saw her—a lone figure standing guard. She wore a black jumpsuit, her hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, met his through the gas mask's visor. The Exterminator knew she was no ordinary sentry. Her stance screamed discipline, and the scar that ran across her cheek hinted at a violent past.

He didn't hesitate. Before the woman could react, he pressed the trigger on his hand sprayer. A fine mist of gas enveloped her face. She staggered back, clawing at her throat. Panic filled her eyes as she gasped for air. The Exterminator watched, detached, as she collapsed to the ground. The gas did its job—no blood, just desperation.

Inside the warehouse, the basement held the heart of the training facility. Concrete walls absorbed the screams of those who had come before. The Exterminator descended the narrow stairs, the gas grenades clinking against his belt. The air grew thicker, tainted with the scent of fear.

The room below was a big training room full of training equipment punching bags and all sorts of stuff to train. Several women, their faces etched with determination and fear, looked suprised at their visitor. Their eyes widened as the Exterminator stepped into the flickering light.

He tossed a gas grenade into the center of the room. Panic erupted. The girls scrambled, clawing at their throats, desperate for clean air. But there was no escape. The Exterminator moved methodically, spraying concentrated gas directly into the faces of some that get close to him. Their struggles intensified—their bodies convulsing, limbs flailing.

One girl, eyes wide and pleading, reached out toward him. He met her gaze, unyielding. With a move of his finger, the sprayer does his work.
Until only the hissing of the grenades was left to hear.

The outpost was clear—the pests eradicated. He ascended the stairs, the weight of his actions settling on his shoulders. The rival cartel would pay well for this service, but the Exterminator wondered how many more jobs he'd extinguish before his own darkness consumed him.

Description
made with Bing image creator

This one was wished (if you also have a idea look at my posts)

prompt: (works very good)

one male with a gas mask hazmatsuit and a handsprayer, 5 young brasilien female scream and cover ger mouth with one hand, inside a gym, green fog, the female wear gym clothes sportbra shiny leggins some crawl, he sprays at them, basement

(possible addition: "looking at eachother")

Possible story:
(Its kinda dark and im not sure if this is to much)

**Title: The Exterminator's Contract**

In the dimly lit alley behind a nondescript warehouse, the Exterminator adjusted his hazmat suit. His real name was lost to the shadows, replaced by the moniker that echoed through the criminal underworld: the Exterminator. He specialized in eliminating pests—both the six-legged kind and the two-legged kind. His services were for hire, and sometimes, the highest bidder came from the darkest corners.

Today, the contract was different. The client was a rival cartel, and their problem wasn't drugs or territory—it was a training outpost. A place where young recruits learned the art of violence, honing their skills to become efficient killers. The Exterminator had seen it all: drug lords, corrupt politicians, and now, these would-be assassins.

He stepped out of his van, the metal creaking under his weight. The moon hung low, casting elongated shadows across the cracked pavement. The warehouse loomed ahead, its windows boarded up, secrets hidden within. The Exterminator adjusted the gas mask over his face, the rubber edges sealing tightly against his skin. His gloved hand gripped the canister of gas—a weapon of his own design.

As he approached the entrance, he saw her—a lone figure standing guard. She wore a black jumpsuit, her hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, met his through the gas mask's visor. The Exterminator knew she was no ordinary sentry. Her stance screamed discipline, and the scar that ran across her cheek hinted at a violent past.

He didn't hesitate. Before the woman could react, he pressed the trigger on his hand sprayer. A fine mist of gas enveloped her face. She staggered back, clawing at her throat. Panic filled her eyes as she gasped for air. The Exterminator watched, detached, as she collapsed to the ground. The gas did its job—no blood, just desperation.

Inside the warehouse, the basement held the heart of the training facility. Concrete walls absorbed the screams of those who had come before. The Exterminator descended the narrow stairs, the gas grenades clinking against his belt. The air grew thicker, tainted with the scent of fear.

The room below was a big training room full of training equipment punching bags and all sorts of stuff to train. Several women, their faces etched with determination and fear, looked suprised at their visitor. Their eyes widened as the Exterminator stepped into the flickering light.

He tossed a gas grenade into the center of the room. Panic erupted. The girls scrambled, clawing at their throats, desperate for clean air. But there was no escape. The Exterminator moved methodically, spraying concentrated gas directly into the faces of some that get close to him. Their struggles intensified—their bodies convulsing, limbs flailing.

One girl, eyes wide and pleading, reached out toward him. He met her gaze, unyielding. With a move of his finger, the sprayer does his work.
Until only the hissing of the grenades was left to hear.

The outpost was clear—the pests eradicated. He ascended the stairs, the weight of his actions settling on his shoulders. The rival cartel would pay well for this service, but the Exterminator wondered how many more jobs he'd extinguish before his own darkness consumed him.