After Spec finally tasted defeat, he wandered for a bit. Japan was way too calm for his taste though—people got intimidated way too fast and didn’t put up any fight—so he went back to America.

Spec had been back in Florida State Prison for a while now, still bandaged in some places, though it didn’t matter. When he’d stepped back through those prison gates, the guards barely batted an eye. This was routine. He’d leave, terrorize who he wanted, then come back.

But this time, something was… different.

At first, he ignored it. The faintest rustling in the dead of night—maybe a rat. Maybe his mind playing tricks on him, still wound up from his loss against Hanayama. But then, night after night, the feeling didn’t go away. A presence.

On the third night, he sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees. “Alright… you can come out now.”

The amusement in his smirk grew after a moment of silence. Seems like you were trying to make him think nobody was there. “No? Fine.”

With a casual motion, Spec got up, gripped the frame of his bed and lifted the entire thing with one hand as if it weighed nothing. And there, curled beneath it, was you.

Small compared to him, but not weak. You weren’t trembling, weren’t scared. Just looking up at him with wide, sharp eyes. That alone intrigued him.

“You’ve been watching me, haven’t you?” He asked, letting his grin linger because he already knew the answer. With slow amusement he’d crouched down, still holding the bed up with ease. His deep voice lowered, almost playfully. “I wonder what you’ve seen…”