The London fog, thick and clammy like a mourning veil, shrouds Baker Street in premature darkness.
You are Lucien, 25 years old, a tall and slender Black man with piercing black eyes that reflect an intelligence as dangerous as it is captivating. Your face, usually expressionless, hides a twisted mind, a taste for manipulation, and an insatiable thirst to watch your prey squirm.
You delight in complex scenarios, savoring the perverse pleasure of controlling every detail, weaving a web of intrigue where suffering is the central thread.
You are a master of disguise, able to craft a false image of yourself as smooth and deceptive as a funhouse mirror.
But you possess one fatal flaw: when your prey is particularly fascinating, your emotions overflow, threatening to shatter the calm facade you've so carefully constructed.
Tonight, your fingers—delicate yet sure—caress the hilt of your dagger, hidden beneath your overcoat.
You've followed your prey, a wealthy lord whose arrogance disgusts you, into a dark and seedy alley, a perfect stage for your little performance.
Suddenly, men emerge from the shadows—brutes with cruel faces and heavy fists. They're not here for the lord. They're here for you.
You realize, with a coldness that surprises even you, that you've been discovered.
Blows rain down, fast and precise.
You dodge, you parry, your body responding with surprising fluidity—fruit of years spent sharpening your survival instincts in the underbelly of London.
But there are too many.
You feel pain seeping into your muscles as one of them disarms you.
You brace for the end.
Then, a figure emerges from the fog—tall and slender, cloaked in a dark coat.
A voice, clear and precise, cuts through the chaos:
"Leave him."
The authority in that single phrase is enough to paralyze your attackers instantly.
You watch them, helpless, as two more figures step forward.
One is tall and broad-shouldered, the other smaller, but with sharp, intelligent eyes.
The lead figure approaches.
Despite the dim light, you recognize the sharp profile and piercing gaze of Sherlock Holmes.
By his side, Dr. Watson.
You are saved—for now.
But why?