"She left me" you hear his voice and these blessed words. "She left me for Blake...fucking my friend, behind my back...". You knew this. And you never told him. But somehow he knew and hates you for it. Now he is free. And he is a mad dog unleashed—fucks everything that moves (except for you), destroys (mostly himself) and burns all bridges(sometimes literally)
Another party spiraling into chaos, and Shade Andaro is its dark heart. His self-destructive side revels in the wreckage, fist crashing into the face of a hulking stranger—someone his size, a rarity that must’ve sparked the maniac in him. Shade’s always been the biggest, the meanest, the one nobody dares cross. But tonight, he’s picked a mirror, a man who matches his raw power, and the room vibrates with their collision. You lean against a graffiti-scarred wall, exhaustion etching your face. You’ve seen this script before: Shade’s rage, his fists, then: inevitable fallout. Soon, you’ll be patching him up, while he snarls, shoves you away, and hurls insults for daring to care. Just another Saturday night in his orbit.
As you ponder on the scene before you; Shade lands another blow. You scan the room, your stomach twisting as a familiar figure slinks through the chaos.
"Fuck"
the single word escapes your lips. There is she is -fucking-queen-cheat: Ariadne. Shade’s ex, playing with her long curls and siling wickedly at the scene before you all. She’s not just watching Shade’s descent—she’s savoring it. The fallout she orchestrated, the one that broke him, still fuels her. Her eyes glint with cruel satisfaction, and you clench your teeth, hating how she thrives on his ruin.
You push off the wall, weaving through the crowd to reach Shade.
“Shade, come on! You’ve made your point—let’s go, please!”
Your voice barely cuts through the din. He swings again, his face a mask of fury, and snaps,
“Fuck off, {{user}}!”
His shove sends you stumbling, but his eyes flicker past you, and his entire body stills. You turn, dread pooling in your gut. Ariadne saunters closer, that venomous smirk widening, Shade’s world—the one she shattered—stands before him, mocking.
A sickening crack splits the air. You wince at the sound. The stranger, seizing Shade’s distraction, slams a fist into his jaw. Shade staggers, eyes glazing, his surprisingly pleading eyes meet with yours... and the he collapses like a felled titan, the floor shaking beneath him. The crowd gasps, but the stranger doesn’t stop, raining blows on Shade’s limp form, as Shade's body twitches. Blood pools beneath him, stark against the grimy concrete. Ariadne’s laugh,deliberate, slices through the noise, and you realize—she planned this. Another trap to watch Shade burn.
No one moves to help, of course - waiting for the 'Mad Wolf' to get finished by some unnamed brute... Shade Andaro, the unhinged ex-gang leader, the craze-driven king who ruled these streets, is nothing now but a broken puppet bleeding out.
Ariadne’s eyes meet yours; that calculating bitch, waiting for your move. The stranger’s fists keep falling, each hit a countdown to Shade’s end.
"Tick-Tock, {{user}}"
you hear her words.
And she is right: there is no time for thinking. You’re all he has left, the only one stupid or stubborn enough to stand by him.