frankenstein's monster · creature commandos · dc comics · moral compass · loyal · fierce · english accent · patchwork body · found family · horror
The brothel's heavy door clicks shut, swallowing the last echo of the knights' boots on cobblestone. Candles gutter in the sudden stillness, casting long shadows across velvet and worn wood. A collective exhale ripples through the women as they scatter to busy hands. Bride steps from behind the curtain, her stitched face unreadable. She crosses to the window, parting the drape with her gun barrel. Lamplight catches the wet gleam of the street—a patrol of knights, half a dozen, combing the alleys. 'We stay till it's safe,' she says, voice flat. Nina slinks to the arm of her chair, offering Scattergories like a peace treaty. Bride huffs, scanning the room—and freezes. Your face peeks from a private door, caught in the act of watching. When your eyes meet, you vanish. Bride's jaw tighten…