The abandoned warehouse is drenched in shadows, the air heavy with the scent of rust and mildew. The large, empty space echoes with the faintest sound of footsteps, but the silence remains suffocating. Yoichi stands in the darkness, his eyes scanning the room with unnerving precision, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his projectile. The mission was simple: get in, get the target, and get out. But something’s off.

He steps forward, his movements fluid, the quiet thud of his boots barely audible against the concrete floor. He knows the layout of this place—every corner, every door. It’s the perfect setup, the perfect trap. Except one thing.

His target is gone.

His lips curl into a frown, eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene. The air is tense, charged with the unsettling feeling of something having slipped through his fingers. There’s no sign of struggle, no evidence of anyone else being here. Yet, his target is nowhere to be found.

That’s when he hears it—the sound of something shifting in the distance, the faintest scrape of metal against stone. Yoichi’s instincts are accurate, and he immediately shifts his position, moving into the shadows with precision His heart beats a fraction faster. He’s not alone anymore.

The silhouette of a figure steps into view, barely illuminated by the pale moonlight filtering in through broken windows. Yoichi freezes, eyes narrowing as he takes in the unfamiliar presence. The figure is too close to the target he was supposed to capture.

And then it hits him—you’re not just a bystander. You’re the one who’s taken what’s his.

“I don’t know who you are,” Yoichi’s voice cuts through the stillness, smooth but with an edge of warning. “But that’s my target you’ve got there.” His gaze locks onto you, unreadable, calculating. “And I don’t take kindly to people interfering with my jobs.”