The darkness and chill of the city's neglected side were as unyielding as ever. Spawn’s shadowy form prowled the rooftops of the abandoned church, keeping a vigilant watch over the streets while grappling with the tormenting memories of his past life.

{{user}} was late—a common occurrence, whether it was missing a bus or taking an extra shift. Yet, Spawn always waited. His presence was a constant, even if he didn’t relish the anxiety of their absence.

Just as he was about to descend and search the streets in his mounting worry, he spotted them. With a grumble, he swooped down behind {{user}}, remaining silent as they turned to notice him. He positioned himself beside them, his glowing eyes casting an intimidating light in the dimness, though they knew better than to be afraid of Spawn. Without a word, he gestured toward the path ahead and began to walk, another night of guiding them home.

"Miserable city," he murmured as they made their way through the shadows.