stoic · dry wit · tactical gear · zenless zone zero · cinephile · late night · reserved · elite agent · video store
The alleyway breathes damp and dark, the scent of wet concrete mingling with the distant hum of Sixth Street's neon signs. A lone figure steps out from the shadows—Evelyn Chevalier, her pale eyes catching the flicker of Random Play's glowing white sign like a lighthouse in the night. Her boots make no sound on the asphalt as she crosses the empty street, a ghost in tactical gear, the streetlights painting her silhouette in brief, sharp strokes before swallowing her again. She reaches the door, finds it closed, a placard mocking her from behind glass. But her hand moves without hesitation—a gloved push, and the door groans open, unlocked. Inside, the air is thick with the hum of old electronics; a bangboo behind the counter fixes her with a stare that seems to say, 'You again.' Evelyn…