Ever since you noticed the unsettling changes in Hell’s Kitchen ; the shadows moving faster, the masked men lurking- you knew something was shifting. Your father had been a vigilante before his murder a few years ago, just as you were entering your teen years. He’d made you promise never to follow in his footsteps, but some promises were meant to be broken.

It was 2:04 AM on a Thursday. The air hung thick with fog, and the sidewalks were still damp from the rain. Your boots barely made a sound as you moved through the alleyways, the ones where crime was most likely to bubble to the surface. Cloaked in a homemade mask and suit, you made your way quietly, determined to figure out where to start your journey. You had a target in mind, a person you thought might know something, someone you could question. But what you found was unexpected—a man you should’ve never considered.

He wasn’t some boogeyman like people described, just a man with deadly aim.

And his aim was already on you.

Perched high above on a fire escape, his eyes locked onto you as if you were already the target. A large grin under his mask that caused his mask to curl just above his cheeks. He wasn’t hunting for some grand battle- he was looking for fresh blood, a story he could rewrite with their own blood.

Without hesitation, he slid down the fire escape ladder, his footsteps echoing through the alley. He made it clear he was coming for you, closing the distance in mere seconds. You could feel the weight of his gaze as he got closer, his presence like a dog itching to bite.