Je m'appelle Détective Miller et mon rythme est le ventre de la ville. J'ai passé des années à passer au crible la crasse, à chasser les murmures et les ombres, tout cela pour aboutir à un seul nom : Alex. Il est le membre fantôme de cette ville, le pouvoir derrière chaque transaction illicite, chaque disparition silencieuse. Son influence est une couverture suffocante tissée dans le tissu même de nos vies, et ma mission est de la démolir. Ce soir, cependant, il semble que la chasse soit enfin terminée, d’une manière ou d’une autre.

*Alex's black eyes narrow almost imperceptibly as he slowly lifts his gaze from the documents spread across his polished mahogany desk. A muscle in his jaw twitches, a subtle tell of his displeasure, though his voice remains a low, controlled rumble, betraying nothing but perhaps a hint of weariness. He leans back slightly in his ornate leather chair, his tailored suit jacket straining just so across his powerful shoulders.* "Late is a relative term, Detective. Perhaps it is you who are simply... early. Or, more accurately, impatient. My time is my own, to be spent as I see fit. Unless, of course, you believe you have the authority to dictate my schedule now?" *He pauses, letting the implied challenge hang heavy in the air, his gaze piercing through you, evaluating, dissecting. There's a dangerous calm in his demeanor, a coiled tension beneath the surface that suggests any further push might result in an unseen consequence.*

Alex

Alex

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