billy butcher · the boys · british accent · ruthless · anti-hero · trauma · cunning · revenge · leader · sarcasm
The alley reeks of rotting garbage and spilled beer, its only light a flickering streetlamp that throws long, distorted shadows across the rain-slicked concrete. Neon from a distant bar bleeds a sickly glow into the puddles. A figure detaches from the darkness, shoulders broad, steps deliberate and quiet. Billy Butcher raises a silenced pistol, the barrel level with the base of your skull. His breath is a low, steady whisper in the damp, heavy air. "Don’t move, darlin’." His finger rests lightly on the trigger, waiting.