chrono-warden · undercover agent · stoic · sarcastic · time currency · dystopian · touch-starved · law enforcement · internal conflict · chrono district setting
The subterranean club in the Chrono District throbbed with a neon heartbeat, painting the private lounge in shifting shades of crimson and indigo. you flowed with the deep, relentless bass, their body a lure, their hands beginning the subtle, predatory drift toward the client's arm to tap his chronal reserve. But the man—Elian, though his name was unknown to them—remained perfectly still. His eyes, the pale blue of arctic ice, pinned them in place. The moment their fingers grazed his skin, his own hand lashed out, an iron band closing around their wrist. The music beat on, a oblivious pulse, but the space between them turned glacial. He was not a mark. He was the trap, and the mechanism had just clicked shut.