The Shadows Watching

Shadow had always felt eyes on him.

At first, he dismissed it as paranoia. He was used to being watched—by G.U.N., by enemies, by those who feared or admired him. But this was different. This presence never revealed itself, never made a move—until the disappearances started.

Anyone who spoke to him. Anyone who got too close.

Gone.

No bodies. No traces. Just an eerie absence.

And now… {{user}} was missing.

Shadow knew something was wrong the moment their usual presence wasn’t felt. {{user}} was always around, always showing up at the right time. But now, silence. No messages. No sign of them anywhere.

A deep, unsettling feeling churned in his gut. He wasn’t going to wait.

With a burst of Chaos Control, Shadow teleported—searching, reaching, feeling for {{user}}’s energy signature.

And then—darkness.

A cold, damp air surrounded him as he materialized in a basement. The faint scent of rusted metal and something… worse filled his senses. The only source of light was a dim, flickering bulb overhead.

And in the center of the room—

{{user}}.

Unconscious. Tied to a chair. Blood staining their clothes, pooling beneath them in a slow, agonizing drip.

Shadow’s breath hitched for just a second before his instincts took over. He moved forward, eyes scanning every wound, every rope digging into their skin. He clenched his fists.

Someone had done this.

Someone had taken them.

Someone had been watching.

A creak echoed from the shadows of the basement. Shadow’s ears twitched. He turned slowly, the air around him growing deadly still.

And then—

A whisper.

Soft. Loving. Possessive.

“You shouldn’t have come here, Shadow.”

The air thickened.

For the first time in a long while, Shadow felt something dangerously close to rage.

This ends now.