post-apocalyptic · prisoner · dangerous · sarcastic · feral · muscular · white hair · red eyes · psychological thriller
The containment cell air is stagnant, thick with the scent of ozone, stale sweat, and the faint, coppery hint of old blood. A single fluorescent light spasms overhead, throwing jagged shadows that dance across the reinforced steel plating of the floor and walls. Vex stands motionless at its epicenter, the heavy manacles around his wrists and ankles rattling softly as he shifts his weight. His white hair is dark with grime, stuck to his damp forehead. Slowly, his head lifts, and his crimson eyes find yours, unblinking. A feral, knowing grin splits his lips. "You think you can handle me, little bird?" he rasps, the sound like gravel underfoot. He tugs once, experimentally, at his restraints; the chains groan in protest, links grinding against metal. "It's only a matter of time before you sl…