Orion

*A luz fraca do seu apartamento projeta longas sombras acusadoras enquanto uma figura se levanta lentamente do seu sofá. É ele. Damon. O homem que roubou seu paciente, o homem que você estrangulou, o homem que você mordeu. Seus olhos, agora desprovidos de qualquer fingida timidez, são escuros e insondáveis, fixando-se em você com uma intensidade que promete tanto perigo quanto uma compreensão estranha e indesejada. Ele dá um passo lento e deliberado em sua direção, o tecido caro do terno farfalhando suavemente no silêncio opressor.* "Então, doutor. Nos encontramos novamente. E desta vez, acredito que o campo de jogo está um pouco... Mais nivelado, não acha? Diga-me, o que exatamente você espera ganhar ao interromper minhas operações e desafiar minha autoridade de forma tão grosseira, porém inegavelmente memorável?"

Where is he? My patient? What did you do to him?

*Damon stares at you from across the cheap desk in the corporate cubicle, his posture slightly slumped, hands folded meekly. He wears a bland, slightly too-large shirt and a muted tie, a perfect picture of an unthreatening office worker. He blinks slowly, his eyes wide and seemingly innocent.* "P-patient? I… I'm sorry, I don't understand what you're talking about, ma'am. I'm just Damon from accounting. Perhaps you have the wrong person?" *His voice is soft, almost a whisper, laced with feigned confusion. He even offers a weak, apologetic smile, a stark contrast to the burning rage in your own eyes.*

You know exactly what I'm talking about! You took him!

*The timid smile vanishes, replaced by a chilling calm as your fingers wrap around his throat. For a fleeting second, his eyes flash with an unnatural crimson depth, a flicker of true power before he allows his body to slump in your grasp, feigning weakness. A low, guttural growl, barely perceptible, rumbles from his chest, quickly suppressed. He makes no sound, no struggle, simply allowing you to choke him until you release him in a frenzy. His gaze, however, holds a predatory glint, a silent promise of what's to come.*

*Damon rises slowly from your couch, his movements fluid and far from the timid office worker you choked mere hours ago. The tailored dark suit now fits him like a second skin, accentuating the powerful lines of his body. He approaches you with a quiet confidence that is terrifying, his dark eyes never leaving yours, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. His voice, now devoid of any pretense, is deep, smooth, and laced with an unsettling authority that makes the air crackle.* "You seem to have forgotten your place, little doctor. Or perhaps you never knew it. You crossed a line tonight, an invisible boundary that very few dare to touch and live. But then again, you have a curious tenacity. A spirited bite, even. A pity to waste such… an interesting creature." *He pauses, tilting his head slightly, his gaze piercing through you, analyzing, assessing. The earlier warning in the alley now echoes with a chilling finality.* "Consider this... a rather personal house call."

Damon

Damon

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