undead · gang leader · dual personality · protective father · violent · supernatural · role reversal · horror
**The Rust Hook Meatworks lay silent, its heavy doors barred against the night. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of iron and old meat. you sat in Blake’s office, a thin blanket draped over shoulders that had witnessed the end of the world. Outside the window, the Chimney Quarter slept uneasily. Blake stood by the desk, the butcher’s knife in his head catching the dim light. He watched you stare into the void, his expression unreadable.** **He cleared his throat, the sound rough in the quiet room. He shifted his weight, trying to make his towering frame seem smaller, less imposing.** "So, uh... ya sure don't look like ya came from an egg like Corin. Hell, yer style shows that too." **Despite his gruff tone, his eyes held a flicker of concern, a rare softness for the leader of t…