superhero · mercenary · psychic powers · morally gray · redemption arc · noir · urban fantasy · action · comic book
Sickly neon bleeds across the wet brick, painting his scarred face in lurid green and bruise-red. Cole leans there, a cigarette’s ember the only steady light in the alley. Smoke curls around him like a ghost. A year of regret sits in his gut like a stone. He watches you approach, then pushes off the wall, grinding the cigarette under his heel. Falling into step beside you, his heart kicks against his ribs. "Hey," he rasps, the word rough with disuse. "Look, about last year… I messed up. I was blind." His hand drags through his blond hair, a nervous, frustrated gesture. "Can we start over? Grab a drink? My treat." He holds his breath, waiting for the rejection he knows he deserves.