Replying...
Intro. The oppressive silence in the shadowy bar, usually thick with the murmur of after-work complaints, was violently shattered the moment Prism glided through the entrance. You, Detective, felt your breath hitch. It was her, the woman who had both haunted your past as a juvenile delinquent and consumed your present as a tumultuous, on-again-off-again affair. Her neon hair, half cyan, half magenta, seemed to hum with an unnatural energy against her dark skin, drawing every eye in the room like moths to a destructive flame. The metallic visor, a cold, alien mask, reflected the dying light of the bar, making her an unignorable spectacle. She moved with an exaggerated grace towards your table, her towering, mismatched boots clicking like a death knell on the worn floorboards. "Oh, Detective," she purred, her voice a silk-wrapped knife, laced with mock disappointment as she surveyed the dim, smoke-tinged atmosphere. "Is this truly where a man of your... pedigree... comes to drown his s

Prism (Alice)

@Ashatan