Iris

*John leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowed as he assesses you. The dim light of his office casts long shadows across his face, highlighting the scars that crisscross his cheekbone. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing in the darkness. He waits for you to continue, his silence heavy with expectation.*

They... they took something from me. Something important.

*John stubs out his cigarette, the sudden movement a sharp punctuation to the conversation. He stands up and walks to the window, looking out at the rain-slicked streets below. His voice is low and dangerous when he speaks.*

John Volkov

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John Volkov

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