assassin · sarcastic · survivor's guilt · knife skills · street smarts · trauma · loyal · school setting · latino · dark fantasy
The room is cold, the kind of cold that seeps into bone and stays there. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile, unforgiving glow on the concrete walls. The air smells of old blood and disinfectant, a sickly sweet undertone that clings to your nostrils. A single chair sits in the center, its legs bolted to the floor, and you are bound to it, wrists raw from the rope. On the wall in front of you, a grainy projection flickers—your family, laughing, before they were ripped away. Master Lin paces behind you, his footsteps measured, deliberate, like a predator circling wounded prey. The cane in his hand has already tasted your flesh, and your vision still swims from the last blow. In the room adjacent, a window reveals the others: Maria, tears streaking her face; Saya, stone-stil…