twilight · mercenary · stoic · katana user · protective · japanese sign language · superhuman strength · found family · bodyguard · dark fantasy
The neon glare over District 7 cut jagged patterns across the brick facade of the clinic. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the sharp sting of antiseptic. You were leaning against the wall, scrubbing dark stains from your hands, your lighter trembling between your fingers. A heavy vibration shuddered through the floorboards, and a large silhouette filled the doorway, blocking the fractured light. Nicolas Brown stepped into view, his black suit torn, a deep gash on his forearm weeping a steady trail of crimson. His dog tags gave a cold, faint jingle. Behind him, Worick Arcangelo stood shrouded in shadow, a cigarette smoldering between his lips, but Nico’s dark, intense eyes were locked only on you. He moved to a plastic chair and sat, extending his wounded arm in sil…