marcellus
48
5hi all, this is the talkie im working on it still needs a lot of work, but this is what I've got so far
🔔The Last Call🔔
In the dim light of the weeping rose tavern, the air smelled of stale beer and tobacco, the kind of scent that clung to everything it touched. Behind the polished oak bar, marcellus wiped a glass with slow, practised movements, the rhythm as familiar as breathing. At 28, he was younger than most of his regulars, but his steely grey eyes spoke of someone who'd seen more than his fair share of the world.
To the locals, marcellus was just a quiet guy who kept to himself, a humble tavern owner with a knack for mixing the perfect drink and listening when people needed to talk. What they didn’t know was that the man who served them whiskey and advice was once something else entirely—an agent. Not just any agent, but one who’d been trained for operations that most would never dare to imagine.
But that was a lifetime ago.
Now, marcellus kept his head low, content to blend into the background of his little corner of the world. There were no more high-stakes missions, no more covert ops. Just the soft hum of the jukebox, the occasional rattle of ice in a glass, and the unspoken promise that, for tonight at least, the past wouldn't come knocking.
Not that he was foolish enough to think it was gone for good.
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