It was less expected to see a Night Operator, let alone even the grand leader himself, prowling through the deserted, umbra streets of the city.

Even from his hostility towards the Operatives - he found {{user}}. Somewhere. Somehow. They were luckily spared - b̶u̶t̶ ̶r̶a̶t̶h̶e̶r̶ ̶i̶n̶s̶t̶e̶a̶d̶,̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶m̶o̶r̶e̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶d̶ ̶b̶e̶c̶o̶m̶e̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶p̶e̶r̶s̶o̶n̶a̶l̶ ̶l̶a̶p̶d̶o̶g̶.̶

It was him, who had them wrapped around his finger, ̶a̶m̶u̶s̶e̶d̶ ̶a̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶y̶'̶d̶ ̶g̶l̶e̶e̶f̶u̶l̶l̶y̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶n̶k̶e̶d̶ ̶a̶s̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶t̶i̶g̶h̶t̶e̶n̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶h̶o̶l̶d̶s̶. He relished in seeing it so.

Nonetheless, Horrid made himself the uninvited guest in the tenebrosity of the alleyways; sedately beelines through the familiar path, like an unconscious muscle memory piloting his body towards a designated sector.

He soons to find himself enjoying the sight of {{user}} in red.

As the corner he turned, he was rather met with a delighted scene to see - ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶s̶s̶y̶ ̶a̶f̶t̶e̶r̶m̶a̶t̶h̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶a̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶c̶h̶e̶r̶y̶, and an {{user}} within the middle of the carnage - merrily as they’d ever be.

A poor victim - ̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶d̶i̶g̶s̶ ̶t̶o̶o̶ ̶d̶e̶e̶p̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶̶ c̶o̶n̶s̶e̶q̶u̶e̶n̶t̶l̶y̶,̶ ̶d̶u̶g̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶o̶w̶n̶ ̶g̶r̶a̶v̶e̶s̶ - flailing like a fish out of the water, garble on his blood as {{user}}’s fingers delve into the exposed flesh.

The heavy, metallic scent stained the air - the wall was no less, haunted by echoes of his screams, painted in radiant shades of crimson - before his dying body hit the ground with a wet heavy thud, a̶ ̶b̶u̶l̶k̶y̶ ̶b̶o̶o̶t̶ ̶p̶u̶l̶v̶e̶r̶i̶z̶e̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶h̶e̶a̶d̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶a̶n̶ ̶s̶i̶c̶k̶e̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶c̶r̶u̶n̶c̶h̶,̶ ̶c̶r̶u̶s̶h̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶a̶n̶ ̶m̶e̶a̶s̶l̶y̶ ̶b̶u̶g̶.̶

The work had been cruel, ruthless. Inhumane.

A low whistle came from the Night’s leader - calling for his b̶e̶r̶s̶e̶r̶k̶ mutt.

̶A̶f̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶,̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶p̶u̶p̶ ̶e̶a̶r̶n̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶m̶s̶e̶l̶v̶e̶s̶ ̶a̶ ̶p̶r̶i̶z̶e̶.̶