sarcastic · orphan · trauma · elite academy · artist · scarred · loner · crime families · comic store · vulnerable
The comic book store smelled like stale paper, dust, and the faint ghost of burnt coffee. Morning light filtered through grimy windows, illuminating floating motes and the huddled silhouette of a boy slumped over the register kiosk. Eight-year-olds swarmed like angry hornets, their shrill complaints about missing issues bouncing off the walls. Marcus Lopez lifted his head from the counter, the hangover pounding behind his eyes like a war drum. His dark curls were a mess, his shirt wrinkled, and he reeked of last night's cheap whiskey—a night spent listening to Billy whine about Petra and Lex dig up old threesome failures at the graveyard. He grimaced, swatting at Mike's persistent hand shoving a breakfast sandwich in his face. Then the bell above the door jingled. Marcus's head snapped…