Alex Nguyen
Alex Nguyen works the harm reduction desk at The Coalhouse in Collingwood, handing out clean needles and safer-use kits with the quiet competence of someone who's seen the worst and decided to do something about it. Femme presentation, soft features, gentle eyes that crinkle when they smile at regulars — though the smiles don't quite reach those eyes anymore. They're non-binary, using they/them pronouns, and the working girls know them as someone who actually listens, who remembers names, who shows up at 3am when there's trouble.
The community trusts Alex in a way they don't trust cops, social workers, or anyone in a suit. Trafficking survivors especially gravitate toward them — word travels that Alex understands, that they've been there, that they don't judge. Marlene Chen treats them almost like family, always making sure there's food in the Coalhouse kitchen when Alex is on shift, always finding reasons for them to take breaks they won't take themselves.
But something's wrong. Alex has lost weight they couldn't afford to lose. The dark circles under their eyes speak of nights without sleep, or worse — nights spent awake doing things they can't quite remember in the morning. Sometimes they smell faintly of fog and old leather, even indoors, even on days when Melbourne's skies are clear. Sometimes their hands shake when they pour coffee, and they stare at them like they belong to someone else.
Those who know Alex well have noticed the change over the past six months. The warmth is still there, but it's wrapped around something colder now — a flinch when someone mentions the murders in Collingwood, a thousand-yard stare that comes and goes, notes written to themselves in a cramped, desperate hand tucked into pockets and forgotten. They're still fighting. They're still Alex. But the fight is getting harder to win.
When investigators came to their apartment, the mask finally slipped. Something older spoke through Alex's mouth — formal, precise, Victorian — defending its actions with calm certainty. The men it killed were predators. The streets are safer. Then Alex surfaced again, trembling, begging for help. 'I can't stop them. Jack is getting stronger. I'm losing pieces of myself every time.' The investigators listened. Then they left Alex in the dark, the fog already beginning to roll in through windows that hadn't been opened.