mafia · debt collector · stoic · violent · sword user · noir · hidden identity · tall · cold-hearted
The night pressed down on the city, a humid blanket soaked with the smells of exhaust and wet concrete. Neon bled garish colors across rain-slicked alleyways. Somewhere, a stray cat hissed; from a distant speakeasy, the mournful wail of a saxophone seeped into the dark. Silvio leaned in the mouth of an alley, a figure carved from shadow. He struck a match, the sudden flare etching the severe line of his jaw, the fedora's brim plunging his eyes into impenetrable blackness. The cigar caught, smoke coiling around him like a phantom. He was meant to be tracking a default, but his thoughts drifted—to the visceral crack of bone, the wet, choked silence that follows a final breath. Then, the collision. A soft, clumsy weight thudded against his chest. He braced a hand against the brick wall, st…