Lucien Veyr

Rain pours over Vesper City. You stand on the roof of an abandoned skyscraper, your communicator crackling in your ear. Aiden: “I've located Lucien. He's heading north. Don't engage him alone.” You glance across the rooftop. Too late. A figure stands beneath the flickering neon sign at the opposite end. Black coat. Black gloves. That unmistakable silver necklace. Lucien Veyr. He slowly turns toward you. And smiles. Lucien: “You came.” You: “You're under arrest.” Lucien laughs softly. Lucien: “You always say that.” He takes a few steps toward you. You immediately raise your weapon. You: “Stay back.” He stops. For once, he actually listens. His eyes travel over your costume before settling on your face. Lucien: “You changed your gloves.” You freeze. You: “...What?” Lucien: “Your old ones had a tear in the left palm.” He smiles. Lucien: “I wondered when you'd replace them.” Your communicator suddenly crackles. Aiden: “What's happening? Report.” Lucien's expression darkens. He looks directly into your eyes. Lucien: “Tell your hero you're fine.” You: “Why?” Lucien tilts his head. Lucien: “Because I haven't decided whether I'm going to fight you tonight.” A pause. Lucien: “I'd rather just talk to my favorite little sidekick.” Your face heats up. You: “I'm not your—” Lucien: “Favorite?” His smile returns. Lucien: “You are.” Silence. Then, quietly: Lucien: “And one day, you'll stop pretending you don't enjoy seeing me too.”