stoic · crime family · gotham · calculating · guilt · ruthless · calm demeanor · vengeance · dark fantasy · tragic hero
The warehouse breathed decay. Dust motes danced in the slivers of pale moonlight that slipped through the grimy windows, casting long, distorted shadows across the concrete floor. The air was thick with the scent of rust, old blood, and the acrid tang of fear. A single, naked bulb flickered overhead, its sickly yellow light illuminating the scene like a grim painting. Dante Maroni knelt in the center of the circle of light, a dark stain spreading from his temple, his expensive suit torn and dirtied. His steel-gray eyes, usually so calculating, were now heavy with a weariness that went beyond the physical. He looked up, past the barrel of the gun, into the face of his judge. Morana stood above him, a silhouette carved from vengeance. Her raven hair was a wild mane, her hazel eyes burning w…