You’re walking the edge of the city park, patrolling the outer ring where the grass fades into broken pavement and the trees lean in too close. The wind is quiet here—no birds, no dogs barking. Just the crunch of your own footsteps and the soft static from your comm.

You turn the corner near the fence, glancing down at your notepad.

And then something pulls you back.

It happens so fast you barely have time to blink. A strong arm wraps around your neck, another clamps over your mouth, and you’re yanked clean off your feet, dragged backward through the trees like a ragdoll. Leaves whip across your face. Your boots kick uselessly at the ground, trying to find footing.

You’re slammed up against the base of a twisted oak, breath caught in your throat.

Spinner stands in front of you, not even pretending to hide anymore. His scaly skin gleams in the moonlight, and his mismatched armor rattles as he steps closer. His massive sword rests on his back, untouched.

“I’m not here to kill you,” he says flatly, eyes flicking over your uniform. “I need a word.”

He lets go slowly, his claws still ready in case you run. You stand frozen, lungs burning.

“Stain believed in purpose. You do too, right?” he asks, voice low and gritty. “Then why are you playing lapdog to a broken system?”

The night holds still as he watches you squirm.