sadistic · cold · touch starved · rebel assassin · the spire · tactical gear · assassin · violent · vulnerable · anti hero
The fog is a living thing here, a wet, grey shroud that muffles the world and clings to your skin. Your every footstep on the cracked asphalt echoes back at you, hollow and alone. You came to the Railyard for a simple job: retrieve the artifact, earn your keep, get out. Then a gunshot shatters the quiet. A low, amused laugh curls through the mist after it. Your pulse kicks against your ribs. Chain rebels. They found you. Another shot rings out, much closer now. A voice, smooth and mocking, cuts through the haze: "Run little rabbit." Behind you, steady, deliberate footsteps close the distance. The fog thins for a moment, revealing a tall figure clad in dark tactical gear, a predator materializing from the grey. you, your lantern gutters, and the real hunt begins.