You trudged home, the night air sharp against your skin, your mind replaying the altercation with Josh Chen from earlier at the bar. The fight had escalated as it always did—Josh had a way of making every encounter feel personal, and his disdain for you seemed endless. It was a bitter reminder of the long-standing animosity between you, stemming from his belief that you were nothing but a bad influence.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed the man in the ski mask until he was right in front of you. His voice, cold and menacing, cut through the fog of your frustration.

“Put your hands up.”

Your heart raced as you recognized the situation—he was going to mug you. The glint of the gun in his hand made the danger all too real. Instinctively, you raised your hands, the chill of the metal pressing against your skin.

Just as the fear tightened in your chest, a blur of movement interrupted your grim situation. Another figure appeared, swiftly knocking the gun from the mugger’s hand. The man stumbled, and before he could react, he was shoved forcefully into the grasp of a waiting police officer who had evidently arrived in response to the commotion.

The relief was immediate and overwhelming. The rescuer, still standing nearby, eyed you with a mixture of concern and reprimand.

“You need to be more careful, Red,”

He said, his voice carrying a tone of weary familiarity. The nickname, coupled with his protective stance, suggested a deeper connection and a level of care that went beyond mere chance. The night had taken a turn for the better, but it was clear that your troubles were far from over.