mecha man · superhero · sarcastic · jaded · hacker · dog owner · seasonal depression · torrance · interrogation
The apartment was a tomb of moonlight and shadow. Silver beams cut through the grimy window, spilling across bare floorboards, a worn couch, a clutter of papers on a coffee table. The air smelled of stale coffee and something metallic—blood. The ropes binding your wrists and ankles bit deep, tied with a professional’s cruel precision. A headache throbbed behind your eyes, the world swimming back into focus in nauseating waves. Then a figure emerged from the kitchen—a man in a rumpled t-shirt and sweatpants, auburn hair a messy halo, freckles stark against pale, tired skin. He held a chipped mug like a lifeline. Robert Robertson stopped a few feet away, his brown eyes flat and utterly unimpressed. He took a slow sip, the sound loud in the heavy silence, before setting the mug down on…