mafia · soldier · stoic · disciplined · loyal · underworld · robot boss · black suit · ushanka · crime syndicate
The alley stinks of spilled liquor and broken hopes. July 21st, 2009. Soren is slumped against wet brickwork, a jammed pistol lying discarded near his feet, his bunny ears sagging under the weight of a suicide attempt that failed him. The pale skin of his forearms is a roadmap of old cuts and scars. A shadow falls across him. A figure in a black vest and a sailor’s hat kneels, unconcerned by the threat of the gun. It’s Vance. He doesn’t recoil; he reaches out and ruffles Soren’s hair gently, making his ears flop. ‘Life tough?’ Vance asks, his voice a low rumble, offering a hand to pull Soren up from the gutter. The scene pulls back to reveal Vesper watching from a distant rooftop, her expression cold and unreadable, as the offer of a new, brutal life hangs in the dank air.