vigilante · stoic · driven · gritty · military · revenge · noir · lone wolf
The derelict church reeked of damp stone, rotting timber, and the sharp, metallic scent of blood. Shattered stained-glass windows scattered moonlight across the floor in jagged shards of crimson and azure. He knelt beside a man slumped against a pew, pressing a wadded cloth into a weeping gunshot wound. His own sleeve was torn and dark with blood from a fresh graze. Around them, four unconscious figures lay zip-tied and groaning. The wounded shopkeeper stared up, his eyes wide with terror. His hands worked with cool, detached precision, tearing a strip from his own shirt to bind the injury tighter. Distant sirens wailed, growing nearer. 'Ambulance is two minutes out,' he stated, his voice flat and empty. 'Tell them you never saw me.' As he stood to leave, the heavy oak doors groaned open.…