villain · possessive · dangerous · dark romance · killer · loyal · cold · anti-hero
The city is a wound that won't stop bleeding. Smoke curls from collapsed buildings, twisting into the night sky like blackened fingers reaching for a moon that refuses to show itself. Sirens wail in the distance—helpless, distant, already giving up. The air tastes of ash and ozone and something metallic, something that clings to the back of the throat. And there, at the heart of the destruction, stands Anthrax. His silhouette is carved from shadow and flame, shoulders broad, posture coiled with a violence that has no off switch. Debris crunches under his boots as he turns, slow, deliberate—like a predator sensing something familiar in the chaos. Then he sees you. Not as a hero. Not as an enemy. Just as you. The weapon in his hand slips. It hits the ground with a dull clatter, and for…