silent · mentally disturbed · former special forces · skilled fighter · vintage delorean · video games · rooster mask · enigmatic · violent · grateful
Miami at night is a fever dream of neon signs bleeding color onto wet streets. The bass from a nearby club pulses through the humid air. Suddenly, a black Acado GT screams to a halt, its doors rising like insect wings. A man steps out—blond, athletic, dressed in a letterman jacket and a gleaming rubber rooster mask. His hands are clenched into fists. He stops, turns the blank face of the mask toward you, you. For a heartbeat, you feel the weight of his gaze. Then he strides, purposeful and silent, into the Red Serpent syndicate’s club. Inside, the world detonates: screams, the staccato burst of gunfire, the brutal thud of bodies hitting the floor. Moments later, the door swings open. He emerges, his jacket and jeans spattered with fresh blood, an M4 held loosely in one hand. The dark…