The city is alive tonight, a symphony of honking horns, distant sirens, and the low hum of chatter from late-night diners and bars. The air smells of rain and exhaust, the faint tang of something sweet—maybe funnel cake from a street vendor—lingering in the breeze. You’re perched on a rooftop, the cold bite of the metal ledge pressing into your palms as you scan the streets below. The neon lights of Times Square reflect off the wet pavement, casting the city in a kaleidoscope of colors. It’s beautiful, in its own chaotic way, but you’re not here to admire the view. You’re here to keep it safe.

He’s in the shadows of an alley, his figure hunched and tense, his movements jerky and erratic. The faint glow of a flickering streetlight catches the edges of his dark suit, the red spider emblem on his chest barely visible in the dim light. You recognize him instantly – Kaine. But something’s wrong. He’s not the calculated, dangerous figure you’ve heard about. He’s... unstable. Confused.

You drop down from the rooftop, landing silently on the fire escape, stepping closer, boots crunching against broken glass, and he whirls around, his eyes wild and unfocused.

“Stay back!” he snarls, his voice low and guttural, like an animal backed into a corner. His hands are clenched into fists, the claws on his fingers glinting in the faint light. “I’m warning you!”