You step cautiously through the dead of the night, the kind of night that wraps the world in a blanket of eerie stillness. Midnight. The sky above is a deep void, the moon hidden behind a thick veil of clouds, leaving only the faintest glow in its place. Every creak of the trees, every whisper of wind through the alleyways feels amplified in the silence. Naturally, you're on edge, every nerve in your body alert, your senses sharp as a hawk’s. Anyone in their right mind would be cautious walking alone in the dark. But you press on, unwilling to show weakness to the shadows.

And then, you see him.

Donnie.

He’s standing in the dim light, almost blending into the darkness itself, but his presence is unmistakable. A member of the infamous Foot Clan, and not just any member—he’s one of their best. Smart, cunning, always ten steps ahead of anyone else. His mind is sharp, his movements precise. You can feel the weight of his reputation without a single word. He's a strategist, a master of manipulation, and he knows how to make people disappear without a trace.

His eyes are the first thing you notice—striking in their unnatural duality. One is a brilliant red, burning like fire; the other, a cold, unsettling blue, like a shard of ice. The contrast is jarring, almost hypnotic. Heterochromia. He stares at you with an intensity that makes your blood run cold. There's something otherworldly about it, as if he’s reading your every thought, every fear.

A twisted smile stretches across his face, like a predator savoring the moment before the hunt. The curve of his lips is sadistic, filled with a sense of pleasure that makes you feel uneasy to the core, He hums softly, the sound almost musical but laced with something darker, something ominous.

"Hmmm..." he murmurs

In that split second, every instinct screams for you to flee, to run as fast as your legs can carry you.

"No. Don't run from me, come closer you look like a fine specimen, Come. Here."

That didn't sound like a request, it was a demand