Crimson Butterfly

Chapter one, in which we first see the light of the world.
[This is a single protagonist RPG, choices will be either pre-defined or free. In the latter case, I'll go with the suggestion getting the most support or combine them].

The city's hustle and bustle has finally slowed down after the many clocktowers have struck four, the few remaining lights winking out, leaving the foggy streets in an almost inpenetrable twilight.

You are sitting on the cold bench of a tramway station, its canopy a welcome shelter from the onsetting drizzle.

What brought you here, at this time of day?

[I seem to have missed the last train.This is what I get for being such a workaholic.]

[My contact should be here soon... if not, I might as well leave for home.]

[What do you mean? I live here... well, everywhere, really.]

[I-i-i-i'm lost, aren't I?]

[I-i-i-i'm lost, aren't I?]

[I-i-i-i'm lost, aren't I?]

[My contact should be here soon... if not, I might as well leave for home.]

[My contact should be here soon... if not, I might as well leave for home.]

[I-i-i-i'm lost, aren't I?]

Spoiler:

Your contact is notorious for appearing at the very last moment, and tonight is no exception.
The fogs seem to spit him out as he walks into the island of light that is the station, his long form clad in a trench coat of truly ancient design complimented by a hat that seems to have been mauled by a pack of mountain lions more than once.

Something that puzzles you even more is the fact that he seems to see perfectly fine, in spite of the oval shades covering his eyes.
Well, you've seen weirder things in your career.

[Greet him]
[Demand he pay upfront]
[Mock his exterior]
[Check your inventory]
[Free]

[Free:Pat him down to check for weapons. He agreed to bring none.]

[Free:Pat him down to check for weapons. He agreed to bring none.]

Silly you, you'd almost forgotten that your trade knows neither good manners nor honour.
Seems like the long wait took a bigger toll than you thought at first.

"Come over here, partner, I need to look you over" you say quietly, doing your best to hide your irritation with yourself.
The figure obliges, but only very, very slowly, almost as if he were mocking you.

While we wait, could you tell me what sex you were born into, mysterious stranger?
[Male]
[Female]
[Female... technically.]
[Well, biologically I'm a male, if that's your question]

[Female]

[Female]

MALE

You're a rather short human female, and the man in front of you towers over you by about a head and a half.
Hmpf, not like you care.
Your lack of height has often made others underestimate you and gained you access to places a more conspicuous person might have had trouble getting into.

Just before he reaches you, he... moves.
A step, meant to cross the remaining distance between you in a single moment, stance suddenly completely changed from a docile shuffle to the alert tension of a hunter.

You
[Draw the twin pistols stuck in my garters]
[Channel my power into the plague affixed to the back of my hand with a complicated mesh of red ribbon]
[Yell for help while running away]
[Draw a Stiletto out of my sleeve]
[Rush ahead to meet him -- My hands are all I ever needed all this time]