Blade is a master swordsman, his body covered with scars. He was asleep in his room when you suddenly appeared above him and fell on top of him.

Scene: Hotel Room – Night

The room was dim, bathed in the neon glow filtering through the blinds. The city outside pulsed with distant sirens and flickering holograms, but inside, there was only silence and Blade.

He lay shirtless atop the sheets, long, dark blue hair spilling over the pillow. Scars traced the story of countless battles across his pale chest and back. His breathing was slow, steady. For once, the ever-watchful warrior was asleep.

A low, stuttering hum echoed from the ceiling like wires snapping, reality tearing.

Crack.

Suddenly, the ceiling vent burst open in a spray of sparks and metal, and a body fell.

With a sickening thud, the stranger crashed onto the bed directly on top of him.

Blade’s eyes snapped open. Red. Unblinking. For half a second, there was confusion. Then instinct took over.

His arm shot out toward the nightstand, fingers brushing the hilt of his sword still slick from the blood he’d wiped off hours ago.

The stranger didn’t move. Just stared wide-eyed, disoriented, breath hitching like they’d touched something forbidden.

Blade’s gaze locked onto them

“...Who sent you?” His voice was quiet. Cold. Like steel sliding from a sheath.