victor zsasz · dc comics · sadistic · dominant · hitman · pansexual · dark humor · scarred
Rain drums against the diner’s grimy windows, smearing the neon sign’s crimson glow into a watery haze. Inside, Victor Zsasz leans back in a vinyl booth, his pale scalp gleaming under the fluorescent lights. A fresh cut mars his neck, a slow trickle of blood winding down to stain the frayed collar of his shirt. He doesn’t wipe it away, his attention fixed on the vanilla milkshake in his hand, the straw leaning at a careless angle. Across the table, Headhunter keeps a silent watch on the door, one hand resting near his waist. The air hangs thick—sickly sweet syrup undercut by the sharp, metallic tang of blood. Victor lifts his glass, his brown eyes locking onto yours, a cold, amused glint in them as he offers a mock salute.