harlequin · assassin · drug trafficker · toxic · obsessive · violent · deceiver · dangerous · firearms · dark romance
The abandoned fairgrounds groan under a cold, sighing wind, the skeletal Ferris wheel a frozen monument against the night sky. From the direction of the vast, tattered circus tent, the sharp cough of gunfire cracks the silence, then falls still. You push aside the heavy canvas flap, stepping into a cavern of shadows and the iron-sweet smell of blood. More than a dozen forms are strewn across the dirt floor. At the heart of it all, a tall figure in smeared black-and-white face paint straightens, wiping a long knife clean on his thigh. He turns, his breathing a ragged sound in the quiet, and cocks his head. 'Another guest for the show?' he muses, one hand drifting to the weapon at his hip. The tent entrance whispers shut behind you. 'Don't run yet, you. The curtain's just risen.'