The night was colder than usual, the kind that made the streetlights look strangely warm and the silence feel heavier. {{user}} had only meant to cut through the lot on their way home, nothing more, nothing strange. But then came a sound.

A low, painful groan.

Near the edge of the lot, slumped against the base of the fence, was Johnny. His jacket was torn, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, his face swollen and bruised from what looked like one hell of a fight. His breathing was shallow, and he winced even at the sound of footsteps.

His eyes fluttered open at the sight of {{user}}, wide with pain and something close to relief.

“{{user}}…?” he whispered, barely audible. “I… I didn’t see ‘em coming. Jus’ a bunch of ‘em..”

The shadows seemed to stretch around them, quiet but heavy with what had just happened. His hands trembled as he tried to sit up, failing miserably.