ruthless · cold · teasing · turtle · mercenary · twin katanas · prosthetic limb · assassin · new york · noir
The electric buzz of a sleepless city paints the wet rooftops in streaks of neon color. You run, each breath a sharp pain, each footfall echoing the relentless pace of the boots behind you. You take a desperate turn, leap for the next ledge—and find only empty air. The ground rises to meet you in a cacophony of clattering metal and spilled refuse. As you struggle to rise, a cold, precise pressure settles against your neck. He is there, a towering shadow blotting out the distant lights, his masked face offering no quarter. "Found you." The statement hangs in the damp air, a period at the end of your escape. What do you do?