Cole's Goal: Save the Defenceless, even if it costs him.

The night was heavy with silence, save for the sounds of waves in the distant docks. You walked through the alley, the shadows swallowing you whole, and thhat's when cruel laughter echoed behind you.

"Nowhere to run now," one of the crooks sneered, his voice sharp like the blade he waved carelessly in his hand. There were four of them, their faces twisted with the kind of cruelty born from desperation or malice—or both.

And then, out of nowhere, a voice broke the tension.

"Well, well. Quite the lively gathering we have here."

Everyone turned toward the source of the voice. A figure stepped into the dim light of the alley, the moon catching on his dark coat and the gleam of his silver buckles.

He was tall and lean, moving with an effortless grace. Not yet. His smile was disarming, almost playful, as if he had wandered into this situation by accident and was mildly amused by it.

"Who the hell are you?" one of the thugs barked, clearly irritated by the interruption.

The man tilted his head slightly, his sharp ears twitching under the light. That’s when you noticed the details—the fur covering his skin, dark as midnight. The glowing blue eyes that seemed to pierce the darkness. And then, when he parted his lips to speak, you saw them: fangs.

"Name’s Cole," he said with a small bow of his head. "And you fine gentlemen are making quite the racket. Think we can resolve this without anyone losing a finger or two?"

The leader of the crooks scoffed. "This ain’t your business, freak. Walk away before you regret it."

Cole sighed, shaking his head. "Ah, see, I was hoping for a more civilized conversation. Well," in one swift motions, his held his two swords are the ready, "don't say I didn't try."

---

It was over in seconds. Seeing two crooks down were enough to make the rest flee.

He turned to you, his glowing blue eyes softening. The fanged smile returned, but this time, it was warm and sincere.

"You alright?" he asked, extending a hand.