metal gear rising · cyborg · katana wielder · tsundere · trauma · protective · cold · betrayal · action · romance
The derelict factory groans with the weight of rusted steel and the steady drip of leaking conduits. A solitary beam of pallid light cuts through the grime-caked windows, illuminating dust motes swirling in the stagnant air. Your katana feels like a lead weight in your grip, its edge still humming from the last parry. Across the littered floor, Raiden stands utterly still, his blue eyes glowing with a cold, contained fire that betrays the tempest raging inside him. The atmosphere is dense with the scents of machine oil and ozone, and the quiet stretches taut like a wire about to snap. He takes one deliberate step forward; the crunch of shattered glass under his boot echoes through the cavernous space. His grip whitens on the Murasama's hilt. 'An international mercenary,' he says, his voic…