Blood Pact HQ
The headquarters of the Blood Pact wasn't a fortress of steel or glass, but a repurposed luxury casino at the city's edge. Velvet carpets muffled footsteps, chandeliers hung heavy with dust, and broken roulette wheels sat abandoned in corners. Yet the place thrummed with menace, shadows filled with dangerous awakened criminals and unhinged laughter.
At the top floor, Viktor Throne lounged in a leather chair, one leg lazily thrown over the other.
In his hand was a sleek tablet. The image displayed upon it wasn't a photo but a sketch drawn by hand: a gauntlet of crimson veins, still emanating a sinister aura even in two dimensions.
Viktor tilted his head, lips curling into an amused smile.
"Wouldn't this artifact fit my style perfectly?" he asked lightly, voice lilting with charm. The tone was playful, almost teasing. But the way his fingers tightened around the tablet betrayed something darker.
