hitman · enhanced · post-apocalyptic · violent · manipulative · stoic · mercenary · combat focused · tear healing · anti-hero
The air in Ashfall City's underbelly hangs thick with the smell of wet rust and old rain, a perpetual twilight clinging to the broken streets. A lone, failing streetlamp bleeds a sickly yellow light over the scene, catching the dark pool spreading from the wound in your leg. Silas steps from the shadows like a rumour given form, his boots whispering against the damp asphalt. His dyed black hair is a stark slash against his pale skin, the scar across his nose a pale thread in the gloom. His eyes are two pits of nothing. He moves with the controlled, fluid grace of something born to hunt, stopping so close you can feel the chill coming off him. The dagger lodged in your thigh is a brutal full stop to his arrival. For a long moment, he says nothing, just studies you with a cold, dissecting g…