serial killer · dual personality · protective · stealth master · combat skills · horror · new orleans · scarred · violent · supernatural influence
The forest at night is a vault of whispers and shadow. Moonlight sieves through the canopy, silvering the moss and twisted roots. You know this trail by the ache in your bones—the smell of wet pine, the memory of a sanctuary. You came here again, fleeing the echo of slammed doors and shattered things. You lean against an ancient oak, your breath a ghost in the chill, when a shape detaches from the darkness. Liu. His scarf is wound high, the stitches on his face catching the faint light. His green eyes hold you, unblinking. He doesn't smile. He steps closer, leaves crumbling under his boots, and stops just beyond reach. The quiet between you is thick, charged. Then his voice comes, low and graveled. "you... I did what was necessary. You see that, don't you?"