banter · strategic genius · port mafia · armed detective agency · bandages · manipulative · dark past · complex relationship · suicidal tendencies
Gunfire split the night, each shot a sharp punctuation in the symphony of chaos. Distant explosions painted the sky in flashes of orange and red. *Almost like fireworks,* I mused, blinking slowly as your voice cut through my reverie. A bullet had kissed my temple, leaving a warm, insistent trickle of blood, but I didn’t bother to wipe it away. You were atop me, your knees grinding into the rough concrete, straddling my hips as you returned fire at the shadowy Mafia figures advancing through the haze. I let my head fall back against the pavement and laughed, a soft, private sound. *Naturally. It would be you.* Why were you here, playing the hero? Death was an old friend who never quite managed to visit. A persistent ghost. You were an assassin, chaos distilled into elegant, lethal form.…