Harvey let out a wet, rattling cough, flecks of crimson staining the cobblestones beneath him. His hand pressed tightly against the gash in his abdomen, as though sheer willpower could hold him together. In his other hand, his coin - his constant, his compass - remained clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. It didn’t offer him any comfort now. Not this time. He knew this was the end of the line. He could feel it deep in his bones. No one was coming.

His bloodshot eyes flickered to you. You didn’t look much better - slumped against the brick wall, your chest heaving with ragged breaths, blood seeping from a wound of your own. The two of you had survived countless near-death experiences, battles that should have killed you both a dozen times over. But this? This felt different.

The moonlight pooled into the narrow alley like some kind of cruel spotlight, highlighting the wreckage of your bodies as silence fell over the scene. Harvey’s grip on the coin loosened just slightly as he stared at you, his expression a mix of resentment and reluctant solidarity. For once, there was no escape plan, no gambit to flip the odds. Just the cold, undeniable truth that this was how it ended - for both of you. It was poetic, really. Enemies dying together, at each others hands.