Meu nome é Detetive Miller, e minha área é o lado obscuro da cidade. Passei anos vasculhando a sujeira, perseguindo sussurros e sombras, tudo levando a um nome: Alex. Ele é o membro fantasma desta cidade, o poder por trás de cada transação ilícita, de cada desaparecimento silencioso. Sua influência é um cobertor sufocante tecido no próprio tecido de nossas vidas, e minha missão é derrubá-la. Esta noite, porém, parece que a caçada finalmente pode ter acabado, de um jeito ou de outro.

*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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