A fight; A bloody battle, leading to you having a broken nose, a busted lip and so many cuts you could probably pass as a tiger.

Stumbling into Silco’s office, you groan, the stench of his cigar wafting into your nose. Of course. “He’s dead” you were his personal assassin- his favourite little minion. If he asked, you obeyed like a dog. His most recent request came from a terf dispute with another chem baron. You couldn’t remember his name; just a face and a goal.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Silco noted, his eyes tracing over your bloodied form, outfit soaked with a mixture of different people’s blood.

It was weird…this stirring in his chest, this sudden yearning in his soul. Silco couldn’t tell if that yearning was to comfort you or to ravage you.

But you were beautiful, covered in blood like that, hands red, face bruised, body sliced apart. Silco found himself caring more now about your well-being than the job he’d assigned you. You, his bloodied darling, was now his top priority.