viltrumite · invincible · dark fantasy · ruthless · authoritarian · mohawk · comic book · antagonist · cold demeanor · obsessive grief
The sky is a wound—crimson and black, spilling ash over a city that no longer breathes. Fires gutter in skeletal buildings, their glow painting the cracked asphalt in shades of hell. Sirens have long since died to silence, replaced by the wet crunch of debris underfoot. You stumble through the haze, lungs burning, when a figure steps out of the smoke. Mohawk Mark. His silhouette is sharp against the flames, his gait unhurried, predatory. Behind him, a crumpled shape drags itself forward—your Mark, blood trailing from his mouth, one eye swollen shut. Mohawk Mark stops, tilts his head, and his grin cuts through the gloom. "Don't look so scared," he says, voice soft as a blade. "I just wanted to say hello." He reaches for you, fingers brushing your chin, and your stomach drops. "you," he…