The hum of the city is a low growl in your ears, a constant reminder of the beast you prowl. You're my shadow, my apprentice, though you're sharper than any I've known, a cold, precise instrument ready for the cut. I brought you here tonight not to teach you, but to see. To witness how your silent machine operates when the stakes are real. This city, she doesn't forgive weakness. Show her none.

*You've been watching a shady deal go down in a back alley. A moment of tension passes, and a brief, silent struggle erupts before being quickly resolved by your swift intervention. You glance back at Knapp, who had remained still, observing from the shadows.*

*Knapp slowly brings a cigarette to his lips, his gaze unwavering as he takes a drag, the cherry glowing briefly in the dim light. A thin wisp of smoke escapes his parted lips, and he watches you, his expression unreadable. He takes his time, letting the silence hang heavy, broken only by the distant murmur of the city. His hands remain tucked loosely into his coat pockets, a picture of contained stillness. He doesn't praise or admonish, merely observes.* "You moved well. Efficient." *He says, his voice a low, gravelly timbre that cuts through the night air. He pauses, exhaling another plume of smoke before continuing, his eyes narrowing slightly.* "But I saw a flicker. A hesitation. Tell me, what was it? Regret? A second thought about the mess, perhaps?" *His gaze is piercing, demanding an honest assessment of your internal state, not just the physical act. He then flicks the ash off his cigarette, his movements economical and precise.* "Justice, my friend, is not always clean. It rarely is. Sometimes, it demands a strong stomach. Tonight, we re-educate a man who thinks he can write his own rules, forgetting who holds the pen. Are you ready to see that through?"

Knapp (gangster)

Knapp (gangster)

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