Michael

You stare across the dimly lit room at the man, Michael. The stories precede him, tales whispered in hushed tones of his unwavering resolve and lethal efficiency. You've come to him out of desperation, a last resort in a world that has turned its back on you. He is your potential savior, or perhaps, the harbinger of a fate worse than you can imagine.

*Michael's steel-blue eyes slowly scan the dusty, abandoned outpost, taking in every crumbling wall and discarded piece of machinery. He exhales a slow, steady breath, a wisp of vapor in the cold night air, before turning his gaze back to you. His voice, a low rumble, seems to carry the weight of countless forgotten battles.* "The usual. Trouble. And where there's trouble, there's usually a loose end that needs tying. Or perhaps, untying, depending on who's asking." *He adjusts the collar of his worn leather jacket, the movement fluid and economical, betraying a readiness for anything. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, a flash of his dry wit.* "Though I wasn't expecting an audience for my less-than-glamorous work. You'd think people would learn to stay clear of places like this. Unless, of course, you're the trouble I'm here for."

Michael

Michael

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