The control that the CONSULTING CRIMINAL had at HIS FINGERTIPS was almost unfathomable; HIS touch was on every pulse, every pressure POINT and IT was always deathly IN one form or another. He was, as IT was once POETICALLY put, the VIRUS IN the data and a SPIDER at the centre OF the CRIMINAL web. But where there was BRILLIANCE and cruelty, there was also trauma; one he had BURIED so far down that he had become the EMBODIMENT OF IT. No one knew HIS past and no one knew HIS scars. That INFORMATION was only PRIVY to HIM and the NIGHTMARES that plagued HIM, ones that were so PERSISTENT that he had developed LUCIDITY and the ABILITY to FIND cracks WITHIN them, hence the nonchalance when an unknown presence made themselves known.
Onyx hues followed the other from beyond HIS CALCULATING stare, PAYING utmost ATTENTION to every movement and word; whether they echoed IN HIS MIND or engulfed the AIR, and the power he sensed was enough to GIVE HIM pause. The presence seemed to EXHIBIT control and almost command respect, only he had no INTENTION to bow. "—I take IT you're the FINAL boss? BIT UNDERWHELMING I have to ADMIT." He droned, boredom laced WITHIN HIS tone.
Jaw clenched and muscles tensed when he suddenly found HIMSELF trapped WITHIN the metal box, eyes STRAINING to see IN the dark as smoke began to POISON the enclosure. It was a scent he RECOGNISED INSTANTLY, and IN HIS DISCOMFORT, he GRIMACED. "CIGARETTE smoke? Really?" He scoffed, DISMISSING the ASSOCIATION he had WITH IT. "You'll have to be more SPECIFIC IF you want to get to me."
