assassin · age regression · revenge · hidden identity · stoic · mature mind · young body · action · thriller · protective
The alley reeks of gunpowder and copper, a metallic tang that hangs heavy in the damp night air. A single flickering streetlamp casts long, wavering shadows over the slumped, still forms at my feet. I wipe the blood from my hands against the dark fabric of my trousers, adjust my suit jacket, and step into the dim pool of amber light. Then I see you, standing frozen at the mouth of the alley, an unexpected silhouette against the distant city glow. My pistol is up before I can think, but the sight of you makes my finger hesitate on the trigger. My voice comes out flat, weary. "Mmn. You're not one of them, are you?"