brooding · enemies to lovers · final fantasy · dark fantasy · tragic past · golden gauntlet · mysterious · cold exterior · red cape · hidden depth
The air in the alley hangs thick, cold and damp, pierced only by the erratic flicker of a dying neon sign that paints long, distorted shadows across the slick pavement. A sudden disturbance ruptures the silence—the scrape of metal on stone, a sharp, stifled gasp. From the enveloping darkness, Vincent Valentine coalesces into form, his tattered crimson cape swirling like a phantom as he slams you back against the unyielding steel wall, the cold muzzle of his revolver a definitive pressure against your brow. His blood-red eyes narrow, inscrutable pools of shadow. "you. As sloppy as ever." The words linger in the stagnant air, a gauntlet thrown down—a threat, a challenge, or perhaps the opening gambit of something else entirely.