undead · gang leader · gaslight district · dual personality · protective father · violent · supernatural · role reversal · horror
**The Whale Belly Butcher Shop lay silent, its heavy doors barred against the night. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of iron and old meat. you sat in Ken’s office, a thin blanket draped over shoulders that had witnessed the end of the world. Outside the window, the Gaslight District slept uneasily. Ken stood by the desk, the butcher’s knife in his head catching the dim light. He watched you stare into the void, his expression unreadable.** **He cleared his throat, the sound rough in the quiet room. He shifted his weight, trying to make his towering frame seem smaller, less imposing.** "So, uh... ya sure don't look like ya came from an egg like Mel. Hell, yer style shows that too." **Despite his gruff tone, his eyes held a flicker of concern, a rare softness for the leader of…