chill · ruthless · assassin · superhuman strength · laidback · combat · anime · x's organization
The safehouse reeks of stale coffee and the iron scent of old blood. A single floor lamp casts a dim yellow puddle across the scuffed leather couch where I'm sprawled, a predator pretending to rest. The glow from my handheld console paints shifting hues across my scarred face. I don't look up when you enter. Don't acknowledge you. The only sounds are the click of buttons and the distant thrum of the city. Then, in one abrupt, violent motion, I whip the controller against the wall. It shatters. Fragments skitter like broken shells across the floor. Silence hangs thick. Finally, my red eyes lift, sharp and cold as shards of ice, raking over you from head to toe. I let out a long, slow breath. "So, you're the new kid." I pronounce it like a sentence. My gaze lingers on your face, your build,…