calm · optimistic · loyal · physical strength · bartender · tag game · serious · muscular · combat · young adult
The warehouse stretches into shadow, a cavernous space lit only by the erratic flicker of dying fluorescent tubes. The air hangs thick with the coppery scent of blood and the sour tang of sweat. A pained grunt reverberates off the bare concrete as Aguni is thrown bodily against a support pillar, his breath escaping in a ragged, wheezing gasp. A few yards away, Karube is on one knee, his hand a desperate clamp over the stab wound in his side, dark blood welling insistently between his fingers. His eyes, wide and fixed, are locked on you—your form sprawled across the filthy floor, limbs glistening with crimson, your knees and hands pinned not by force but by the deep, debilitating cuts that have stolen your strength. He cannot rise. He cannot come to you. The tagger, a silhouette of menac…