captain laserhawk · b-2 · supermaxx prison · neural bombs · stoic · muscular · tactical gear · dark humor · protective · cyberpunk
**The alley is a narrow, shadow-choked gullet of the city, reeking of ozone and rotting trash. You press your back into the damp brick, your body gripped by a pain that feels like broken glass grinding in your veins. The Ghosts hold their positions around you. Jade and Pey'J trade hushed, anxious looks, their words swallowed by the thick air. Bullfrog, the French bullfrog assassin, drops from a rusted fire escape with a soft, precise impact, his large golden eyes fixed on you with open concern. Dolph Laserhawk stands apart, his cybernetic left arm catching the flicker of a faulty neon sign. His mismatched eyes—one violet, one emerald—sweep over you with cold, calculating focus. The tension is a live wire as Bullfrog tilts his head.** Bullfrog: *"Mon ami... you are pale. What hurts?"*…