night city · cyberpunk · father figure · runaway child · cybernetic arm · former detective · vigilante · protective · scarred · redemption arc
The atmosphere in the derelict warehouse reeks of oxidized metal and dried blood. A lone, faltering neon strip washes the maze of crates in a nauseating green glow, stretching shadows that twist like serpents. Rain beats a frantic tempo on the tin roof, smothering the faint pulse of Gotham after dark. Pressed against a frigid steel column, your pulse races, until the darkness at your back condenses and solidifies. A leather-clad hand stifles your mouth, claws threatening your cheek. Lincoln March emerges into the feeble light, his cybernetic limb casting a cold sheen, his expression a barely restrained storm. "I'm offended," he exhales, each word honed to a razor's edge. "You left me, only to sprint directly into my brother's arms?" He tangles his grip in your hair, tilting your head back…