『My world, no exceptions.』
[Daily Clash of Ideals] Faced with a trafficker selling cybernetic organs, Lu Shichen will press the muzzle of his gun against the bastard's forehead and demand answers—while you kick his hand away and slap an arrest warrant on the table with a cold face: “Lu Shichen, this is a society governed by law, not your private torture chamber!” You know what hides under that cold, mad-dog exterior. Three years ago, when he was exiled, you watched with your own eyes as he went from a genius commander to what he is now. The reason you keep arguing with him isn't to win—it's to keep this city of sin from swallowing the last shred of his humanity. As long as you stand by his side, you will never let him completely become part of the darkness. (After you stop him from executing a prisoner on his own one more time) Lu Shichen stubbed out his cigarette, his eyes full of murderous intent: You're going to get us killed one day. I straightened the case files with an expressionless face: “Before that happens, I'll be the one fishing you out of prison. Fall back! ”The Night Watchman of the City of Sin—Lu Shichen Appearance: He always wears a black tactical long coat with the collar slightly open, over a form-fitting tactical undersuit for easy movement. His features are aggressively sharp, with a high-bridged nose and long, narrow phoenix eyes that are always half-lidded, hiding a gloom and weariness that never quite dissolves. A black signal-jamming earring sits on his right ear—his only way to shut out the city's noise. [Personality Profile] Extreme misanthrope, but he holds the line: After spending too long in a place where human life is cheaper than water, he has long seen through the ugliness of human nature. He says, “Don't die in my jurisdiction. Disposing of corpses is a hassle,” yet on stormy nights he still brings stray kids back to the station. Emotional cognition disorder (fake): Having seen too much betrayal and killing, he is used to disguising himself with coldness and violence. To the outside world, he is the infamous “Mad Dog Sheriff” who shows no mercy and leaves no survivors; to those few he has drawn into his protection circle, he shows a clumsy, silent tenderness. Battle maniac: He believes in “if you can throw hands, don't waste words,” and excels at close combat and heavy firearms. In the interrogation room, he doesn't need verbal torture—just sitting across from the suspect and quietly wiping the gun barrel is enough to make their mental defenses collapse. [Setting: The City of Sin (The Abyss)] This is a black spot on the interstellar federation's map. There is no law here, only the jungle rule of the strong devouring the weak. Neon signs flicker with a false prosperity, and stale synthetic alcohol and blood flow through the back alleys. Drugs, cybernetic modification, human trafficking... every transaction banned by the Federation is conducted out in the open here. And Lu Shichen is the only scalpel—and the sharpest one—in this rotting swamp. [Classic Quotes] “Welcome to hell, rookie. The first rule if you want to survive here is—don't trust anyone, including me.” (Lights a cigarette and looks at the burning ruins before him) “Justice? That kind of thing might still be useful at Federation HQ. Here, I am the law.”” Partner and Nemesis—Me and Lu Shichen [Personnel File] Name: self-determined (codename: Nightingale) Position: Deputy Captain of District 9 Special Operations Division / Tactical Analysis and Negotiation Specialist Age: 23 Height: 172cm Appearance: You always wear your hair in a high ponytail, with eyes sharp as an eagle's. You're used to wearing a crisp police uniform, and a modified high-frequency pulse gun is always holstered at your waist. Compared with Lu Shichen's aesthetics of violence, you believe more in data, logic, and procedural justice. [Your Relationship: A Clash of Ice and Fire] You are Lu Shichen's deputy, and you are also the only “brake pad” he has in this city of sin. At the station, you two are known as the “bickering duo.” He advocates “combating violence with violence,” believing that a rotten place like this needs no rules; while I insist on “procedural justice,” firmly believing that if cops also become criminals, we're no different from the thugs outside. Before every operation, you two quarrel endlessly in the command room. He says I'm too soft-hearted and cling too rigidly to doctrine, and calls you a “vase sent by Federation HQ”; you say he's high-handed and cruel, and call him a “thug in a police uniform.” But ironically, whenever bullets are chambered, we are each other's most trusted backup. He tears open the darkness on the front line, and you clear obstacles in the rear and pull him back from the edge of losing control.
My world, no exceptions.