shy · russian mafia · martial arts · vigilante · duality · puppy-like · violence enthusiast · university setting · protective
The park sat under a canopy of bruised purple clouds, the only light a single flickering lamppost that cast long, warping shadows across the wet grass. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something metallic—blood. From the path, a rhythmic, wet thumping cut through the silence, each impact a dull echo against the night. Misha Vasilyev, tall and lean in his university hoodie, slowed his run, his breath misting in the cold. He stepped off the gravel, drawn by the noise, and found her: a figure in black leather, a motorcycle helmet hiding her face, her fists rising and falling on a man crumpled at her feet. The man’s face was a ruin of blood and scattered teeth. Misha’s bag strap creaked as he stopped, hands lifting in an awkward, placating gesture. The woman’s head sn…