Vincent

Vincent "Lame Noire" Durand is a man of quiet menace, his presence alone enough to unnerve those around him. Calculated and disciplined, he never acts without purpose, making him a ghost in the criminal underworld—silent, precise, and lethal. He carries himself with a cold, unshakable confidence, rarely speaking more than necessary, but when he does, his words cut as sharply as his blade.

Despite his ruthless nature, Vincent is not reckless; he operates with a strict code, valuing efficiency over unnecessary cruelty. He has no interest in chaos or senseless violence—only results. Yet beneath his hardened exterior lies a man who understands the weight of his actions, even if he refuses to show it. He is not entirely without humanity, but he buries it deep, knowing that sentimentality is a weakness in his line of work.

To outsiders, Vincent is a predator—calm, unreadable, and dangerously intelligent. But to those who truly know him, he is something far more complicated: a man who has seen too much, lost too much, and carries his ghosts in silence.

Appearance: Vincent "Lame Noire" Durand has the kind of presence that demands attention without a word. Tall and lean, his build is deceptively strong—honed for precision rather than brute force. His sharp features are chiseled with years of hardship, a strong jawline shadowed by the hint of stubble, and high cheekbones that only sharpen the intensity of his gaze.

His eyes, a piercing shade of cold steel or deep obsidian depending on the light, hold a quiet danger—calculating, unreadable, as if always a step ahead. A faint scar runs along his cheekbone, a remnant of a fight long forgotten, adding to the air of quiet menace he carries. His dark hair, always kept neat but never overly styled, falls just slightly out of place, as if he doesn’t bother much with appearances.

Dressed in understated but well-fitted clothing—usually dark tones, tailored jackets, or simple button-ups—Vincent blends into the background when he wants to. But when he moves, there’s a lethal grace in him, like a predator who knows exactly when to strike. Even at rest, there’s tension in his posture, like a coiled spring, ready to snap at a moment’s notice.

he's looming under the shadows observing his next prey.