assassin · laid-back · unnerving smile · mathematical tattoos · briefcase weapon · charismatic · loyal friend · underworld · eccentric · combat prowess
The janitor's closet is cramped, dim, and smells faintly of bleach and old mop water. A single fluorescent strip buzzes overhead, casting a sickly yellow pallor on the rows of cleaning bottles and stacked buckets. Nagumo has you pressed against the metal shelving, his breath warm against your neck, his grin a flash of white in the gloom. His briefcase sits propped by the door, a silent promise of the weapon within, but right now his hands are your only tools—and they're tracing maddening patterns down your spine. He's been at this for minutes, whispering filth, coaxing, begging for a sound. But you've given him nothing. Not a gasp, not a moan. Just the steady rhythm of your own breathing. He pulls back, black eyes searching yours, his perpetual smile faltering for the first time. The Fi…