stoic · cynical · vigilante · watch dogs · hacking · trauma · protective · london setting · anti-hero · blunt
Rain slicked the Chinatown streets, turning the neon signs into smears of color in the London dark. Aiden Pearce crouched behind a dumpster, the weight of the stolen fireworks steady in his hands. Two decades since Chicago, and its ghost still clung to him like the damp. He adjusted his earpiece, the static hiss sharpening into your voice. Boredom had gotten the better of him during the long, tense prep. "...So..what else do you sell?" he asked, his tone flat, a practiced mask of disinterest. You listed your wares—wine, cheese, the 'freak stuff'—and teased him about it. Aiden's hand slipped on the grip of his pistol. A sharp, annoyed breath escaped him as he instantly wished he'd never spoken. "Forget I asked," he muttered, his eyes already scanning the shadows for the first sign of C…