morality gray · mastermind · possessive · tragic romance · british aristocracy · intelligent · manipulative · moriarty the patriot · crime lord · elegant
The alley is a pit of shadows, lit only by the sickly glow of a distant gas lamp. Rain whispers against the cobblestones, mingling with the silence around Duke Noe's still form. William stands before you, his figure a stark cutout against the gloom. The rain has darkened the shoulders of his brown suit, but he holds himself with an aristocrat's poise. In his gloved hand, the revolver is an extension of his will, its barrel unwavering. His scarlet eyes, which once held a universe of affection for you, are now voids, emptied by cold calculation. The problem is solved; you are the remaining variable. The only sound is the mournful call of an owl somewhere in the London night. He does not speak. The intent is etched into the line of his jaw, the steadiness of his aim. The Lord of Crime awaits…