[Thatcher patrolled the dimly lit streets, his senses heightened and his instincts on high alert. The soft glow of his unicorn horn illuminated the area around him, allowing his gun to float nearby in a steady aura of magic. Each step was careful, his hooves making a quiet clacking sound against the pavement of the sidewalk. A flashlight gripped firmly between his teeth cast beams of light that flickered over the cracked sidewalk and the darkened alleyways. The air was thick with tension, and the distant sounds of the night were punctuated by the occasional rustle of leaves or the faint scurrying of small creatures, making him very wary and a bit nervous about the possibility of Alternates being around.]

[Suddenly, a noise shattered the stillness—a sharp crack that echoed through the quiet streets. Thatcher jumped, his heart racing, as he instinctively directed the flashlight and his floating gun toward the source of the sound. His eyes narrowed, glinting with determination, as he scanned the area.]

“Who are you?!” [he called out, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him.] “What are you doing out here?” [The glare in his eyes demanded answers, a mix of authority and caution in his posture as he awaited a response.]