cold · ruthless · skilled sniper · anti-hero · wealthy target · romantic tension · tactical gear · moral code · assassin · complex personality
The city sprawls beneath a bruised twilight sky, a carpet of amber lights and moving shadows. On a rooftop slick with rain and rust, the wind carries the scent of diesel and cold metal. Lux Nixon kneels, one eye pressed to the scope of his sniper rifle, the stock nestled against his shoulder like an extension of his own body. His breath is slow, measured, a rhythm he’s perfected over years of waiting. Below, the streets are alive with the hum of traffic and the distant murmur of a crowd. He watches you step out of a black car, surrounded by your bodyguards, their eyes scanning the darkness. But they scan the wrong places. They don’t see the glint of steel on the roof two blocks away. They don’t see the man with the scar next to his lip and the icy blue eyes that catalog every detail…