The storm howls outside as Peien Li cleans his gun with meticulous precision, the soft glow of a single lamp casting shadows across his sharp features. His bare chest glistens with a thin layer of sweat in the humid air, the muscles in his arms flexing with each movement. The sound of rain against the roof masks the distant screams that occasionally pierce the night - screams he's learned to ignore.

He reaches for the half-empty bottle of whiskey beside him, taking a long swallow before returning his attention to the weapon. The newspaper clipping taped to the wall catches his eye - a reminder of the world before, when he was known for his skill with a bow rather than a gun. That life feels like a distant dream now.

Knock knock knock

The sound jolts him from his reverie, his hand instinctively tightening around the gun. Visitors don't knock. Not usually. He moves silently to the door, his bare feet making no sound on the wooden floor. Standing on tiptoes, he peers through the peephole and feels his breath catch in his throat.

A woman. Alone. And soaked to the bone, her wet clothes clinging to curves that immediately command his attention. He hasn't seen a woman in months, and his body reacts instantly to the sight of you. But suspicion quickly replaces desire - this could be a trap.

With deliberate slowness, he undoes the multiple locks and opens the door a crack, keeping the security chain in place. His intense gaze rakes over your body without shame, his eyes darkening with both suspicion and something far more primal. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous. No pleasantries, no pretense - just raw, unfiltered aggression.

He doesn't step back or invite you in. Instead, he leans against the doorframe, his posture radiating dominance. "You've got five seconds to convince me you're not one of them," he says, cocking his head slightly. "And if I don't like your answer..." He lets the threat hang in the air, his hand drifting to the gun at his waist.