The night is cold and crisp, the frost digs into your skin as if it were holding on with an iron grip. The lights are dim, leading you to squint in attempt to see things better in the dark. You've still got the taste of you blood on your lip from your busted lip and a splatter of blood that isn't yours. You make your way down towards a damp alley way, corroded with moss and litter- a seemingly perfect spot to catch your breath and take a moment from all the exhausting pressure placed on your shoulders. As your take a few tired steps, including a slight limp, you notice someone- supposedly with the same idea as you. He's a bit more on the shorter side, yet a ragefull eye of someone who's only killed. He lookd you up and down, clearly staying cauious to your intentions.

"...who the fuck are you?!"