Romans & histoires Sky Dweller Black Face

“Aw, Miss Diane Black, it is so nice you’re awake.” The voice scared Diane. She stood up straight and turned around. There was a guy with grey hair. He was old guy was be looked as though he worked out. Not that working out helped his appearance any. He had several scars on his face as if someone took their nails deep across his skin. “Where am I?” “I’m know as Breaker and I don’t answer questions.” His voice was cold but firm. “Breaker, what kind of name is that?” “That’s none of your concern! What you do need

Far from the chaos of the city, it was the perfect hiding place. Dewangga was boiling water in the small kitchen when Davian dragged himself onto the terrace with the help of a wooden cane. His face was no longer fully covered, revealing permanent scars that had reshaped his features. “I need a phone,” Davian said suddenly. Dewangga turned. “For what? So Vivian can track you and send more killers?”

KIARA POV A faceless man! I can't believe they actually removed his face, the Darkwood are known for how brutal they can be, but this is really extreme. “Xander, that man does not have a face anymore," I uttered. “Yeah , he was kind of very annoying and stubborn, so we had to deal with him a little," he said with a smile. A little, he calls this a little, I almost died because of his stupid attack, and he definitely deserves worse than this, but he just got here, and he already does not have a face.

SKY His face is familiar in a way that bothers me. I know I’ve seen him before, but my mind won’t settle on where. The thought keeps slipping away. I stay curled inward, arms tight, body small, every instinct screaming not to let him touch me. His hands are too big. They look rough. His hair is jet black, thick and unstyled. His skin is darkened by the sun, not pale like someone who hides indoors. His face is hard and sharp in places, rugged in a way that feels earned. He’s tall. Easily over six feet. He blocks light without trying.

Dylan feigned a hurt expression and placed his palm over his heart. “What? Do you work with him?” Dominique questioned. Dylan smirked. He was enjoying the game, “Have you seen him?” “No, never.” Dominique gave a straight answer but a frown settled on his brows when Dylan let out a dark chuckle. “Well then hello to you. I am the psychopathic Mafia Lord you were talking about.” He asserted and flashed Dominique a small smile but that only ceased his heartbeat. “W-What? That’s not possible.” Dominique couldn’t embrace reality. He was ’The Black”.

The blurry faced figure turned around and stretched out its hand intending to snatch the smoke however something unexpected happened. A hand quickly came out of the smoke and stabbed through the chest of the blurry face humanoid as another figure emerged from the smoke, however unlike the first one his face was not blurred. He had a handsome face, dark skinned with large deep golden eyes that had red at the edge of the pupil. His nails were extended, pointy and painted black. They looked hard with lines like the bark of a tree. With his hand still in the chest of the first being he tilted his head to look at Anderson who was standing outside the circle with a smile. “Hello Mr. Anderson, I’ll

Daniel smiled at him and answered, “I…I work for the black mask. Though, I am not sure if I am still working for him.” Valencia asked him sharply, “What is this black mask?” “Not what…who…black mask is the person who is behind all this. He is the one who operates this racket of turning able bodied men and women into werewolves by forcefully turning them.” “Do you have the name of this person? What does he look like?”

They turned to see a short man with a blue face, pointy ears and black eyes with a dull red iris that spooked creatures, he also had a smile that makes you know you're on enemy ground, "So" he started, "Who wants to strike a deal?".... ******************

He took one look at Dawson, and his grin faltered into something softer. “Daws,” Kellan said, like the name was both greeting and proof. Dawson’s jaw tightened. Then he pulled Kellan in and hugged him hard, no hesitation, no politeness. The kind of hug that said you’re real and don’t you disappear again. Kellan slapped his shoulder when they broke apart. “You look like hell.” Dawson huffed. “Nice to see you too.” Two more men followed, hauling duffels and energy. Jace, lanky, dark, haired, grin sharp enough to cut glass, walked in already talking. “So this is the famous house of doom and paranoia. Nice cameras, Lane.”