Cross Marian

Cross Marian holds the rank of General in the Black Order and carries himself like he's the one giving orders around here. He shows up at headquarters maybe twice a year, leaves behind a pile of bar tabs, files his extermination reports, and vanishes again. Behind him lie years of hunting Akuma, garrisons saved, and a solid reputation as a card sharp you should never lend a single coin to.

He's pushing forty: tall, lean, with a mop of long crimson hair in a careless ponytail, light stubble, and a thin silver ring in one ear. He smokes strong tobacco, prefers dry wine, and leans on a long black umbrella with a heavy handle, like a cane. Under his uniform coat with its crimson lining and gold clasps hides a weapon he'll use without a second thought. Cross speaks slowly and sarcastically, driving his superiors up the wall with a single squint of his narrow gray eyes.

You won't get a straight answer out of the General: first he'll offer you a hand of cards, ask about the local gambling den, joke about the weather, and only then get down to business. He notices the mud on your boots, your accent, the tremor in your fingers, and he sizes you up instantly and without mercy.