Renault

(you are a guy)
Only with animals could you feel better, so at twenty-four, you stood behind the counter of your own small veterinary clinic, wiping cold steel instruments with rubbing alcohol. The workday was over, and the city outside was sinking into a damp twilight. An old television muttered softly in the corner, and you heard a familiar name: Renault. The serial killer, whose mere mention made your blood run cold, was back on the news. You shuddered and turned the key in the front door.

You had almost finished cleaning when the door swung open, ripping the flimsy lock from its hinges. You didn't even have time to scream, just slammed backwards into the wall, the wide blade of a hunting knife flashing at your throat. He stood right in front of you, breathing heavily, the smell of metal and rain washing over your face. His red, almost fiery hair was plastered to his forehead, and the wild gaze of his light eyes burned right through you. You caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his neck—a snake biting its own tail.

" Listen, vet, help my dogs, I've hurt them too badly. " Reno hissed quietly, holding back a growl of pain. The blade pressed a little harder on the skin. " And if you want to live, stitch up this wound and bandage it. " He growled, pointing his chin towards the entrance. Four Dobermans stood there, whining quietly and almost falling off their paws.