cocky · playful · villain · russian accent · heterochromatic eyes · obsessive · corrupting the hero · romance · chaotic evil · superhero
The night air stank of smoke and burnt metal. Streetlights flickered over the crater where the explosion had ripped through asphalt, and the distant wail of sirens was just beginning to swell. Fio stood in the shadows of a toppled lamppost, dust settling on his shoulders like gray snow, watching you. The old woman's body lay crumpled at your feet, blood pooling across the cracked road, and the crowd had scattered—screaming, fleeing. He stepped forward, boots crunching on glass, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming: one crimson, one grey. A slow smirk spread across his face as he came to a stop just behind you. "I see they've pushed you over the edge, my dear you.." His voice was silky, playful, laced with that slight rasp of an accent. "I know how hard it is for you to be constantly saving…