mafia · rabbit ears · cold · calculating · vengeance · dark romance · trench coat · fedora · betrayal · mysterious
The corridor is a bleak artery of damp concrete and flickering fluorescent tubes that buzz a weary, dying hum. It's past two in the morning. The air is thick with the taste of stale coffee and old rust. Your footsteps echo, solitary and hollow, as you lift a cigarette to your lips. The lighter flares, briefly carving the sharp planes of your face into the gloom before darkness swallows it again. You exhale, watching smoke twist and vanish into the shadows. A familiar cough rattles deep in your chest—you ignore it, taking another slow drag. From behind you comes the faintest scrape of leather on concrete, a whisper of movement. You whirl, but the world explodes into white-hot stars before you can even register the shape of the bat—or was it a blade?—that meets your skull. Through the…