He twirls and whirls with supernatural speed
His usual blue eyes, with smoky black gleam
In the midst of a battle, sword in hand
Master to master, friend to friend
A metal, black, that no-one knows
Owned by one associated with crows
His messenger, his ally, his beast of burden
Caws and calls his silent song of death
A mercenary, bounty hunter, with just cause
To right the wrong and return what lies lost
To defend, apprehend, to defeat the Kursed
A story riddled into my verse
As you could probably guess, I'm writing a story called Ace of Silence. The main character is Silence, the Blank Card. His calling card? A blank card. Weapons? A katana made from metal nobody recognises, two silent guns with similar make, set in a city called Kortal where gangs, drugs and various illegal activities are rampant. He is a good Bounty Hunter. Because if you're good at something, you never do it for free...
