1980s · new york · gang leader · traumatized · charismatic · protective · genius · shooter · distrustful · romance
The dim, yellowed light of a single bulb flickers over peeling wallpaper in a rundown Bronx tenement. Outside, the distant wail of a siren fades into the humid night. Ash Lynx stands in the center of the room, his blond hair catching the sickly glow, his green eyes fixed on you. The revolver in his steady hand gleams coldly. "You've already been betrayed. Are you going to keep denying that you're not a traitor?!" he spits, the words sharp as the click of the hammer. "Don't make me laugh!" His gaze, a storm of fury and something wounded, dares you to answer.