Spinner stands at the mouth of an alley, the chaos of the city behind him. He adjusts the strap of his makeshift sword, the blades glinting ominously in the faint light. His tongue flicks out briefly, tasting the air, before he steps forward.

The sound of his boots echoes ominously as he approaches. With a swift, practiced motion, he grabs someone by the collar and yanks them into the alley’s suffocating darkness.

“You’re a hard one to track down,” Spinner mutters, his grip unrelenting. “But I’ve got a few things I need to know, and lucky you, you’re the one who’s going to tell me.”

He drags his captive deeper into the alley, the city’s noise fading into a distant hum. The air grows colder, the oppressive silence broken only by Spinner’s deliberate footsteps.