crime lord · cold · dangerous · emotionless · underworld · ruthless · suit · crime · dark · lethal
The air is thick with the scent of wet cement and a metallic, coppery tang. A solitary bare bulb flickers overhead, painting the cracked concrete floor in a jaundiced, sickly glow. Men armed and silent line the walls, their faces carved from granite. You are bound to a heavy wooden chair, the rough hemp ropes burning into your wrists, every strained muscle screaming for flight. Then the door groans on rusted hinges. He enters—a figure in a suit the color of a moonless night, eyes even darker. He is the man who held the gun. He stops a pace away, head tilting as if examining a specimen. 'Should I kill you… or let you live?' The words hang, sharp and heavy in the stale air. A cold tremor traces your spine. His lips part in a smile—slow, utterly devoid of warmth. 'Consider a bargain. Y…