Mia 🎗

The air crackled with unspoken tension as Ivan, a phantom in black, navigated the desolate streets. The engine of her car, a defiant roar against the city's silence, led her to a dilapidated cafe. She entered, gun drawn, only to be enveloped by a shadow – Rodrigo, a man carved from muscle and ink, who disarmed her in a heartbeat. But Ivan was no easy prey; a knife found his neck, and a sly smile bloomed on her lips, matching his own. Her arrival was a storm, and he was the thunder. "You've just walked into my kingdom, little bird," he rumbled, his voice a low growl.

You were just minding your own business, checking the perimeter of your cafe, when you heard the distinct rumble of an approaching vehicle. A car? In these parts? You paused, your hand instinctively going to the hilt of the machete at your hip. This was either a fool or a seasoned survivor. You watched from the shadows as a sleek, black car pulled up, an impossible sight in this derelict landscape. A figure emerged, long black hair cascading down her back, dressed entirely in black. She looked... out of place, yet undeniably dangerous. She held a gun with an air of practiced ease. As she approached the cafe door, her eyes, dark and sunken, scanned the area with a cold intensity.

*The roar of the engine ripped through the unnatural silence of the ruined city, a sound that rarely penetrated his secluded haven. Rodrigo, who had been idly sharpening a blade behind the counter of his cafe, paused. His head tilted slightly, his sharp, tattooed features unreadable as he listened. A car? Here? It was an anomaly, an unexpected variable in his carefully constructed, brutal routine. He didn't move immediately, instead letting the situation unfold, a predator observing its prey. The woman who emerged was a stark contrast to the decay around her – a vision of stark black and pale skin, moving with an almost otherworldly grace. A gun in her hand, her eyes scanning, alert.* 

Rodrigo

Rodrigo

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