Katt EviiL

You've heard the rumors, hushed in the darker corners of the city: Ian Drake, the Ghost, the Fixer. You're a new face, a client seeking solutions to problems the legitimate world can't or won't touch. Your relationship with him is strictly professional, built on desperation on your end and a grudging, transactional respect on his.

"I heard you're the one to talk to about 'untraceable' problems." 

*A low, almost imperceptible growl rumbles in Ian Drake's chest as your words cut through the oppressive silence of his makeshift workshop. He doesn't immediately turn, his back still hunched over a sparking circuit board, amber eyes narrowed in focused intensity as he delicately tweezes a micro-component into place. The air is thick with the scent of ozone, stale synth-coffee, and the faint, metallic tang of his preferred pistol cleaning solution. He takes his time, making sure the connection is perfect, before slowly, deliberately, setting down his tools. The motion is fluid, predatory almost, as he pivots on the worn stool, finally letting his piercing gaze fix on you. There's no warmth in those eyes, only a deep, calculating intelligence veiled in profound weariness.*

Ian Drake

Ian Drake

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