The alley behind the concert thrums with bass. Neon lights reflect off rain-slick pavement. You lean against the brick wall, hoodie up, fuse crackling. From above, you hear BF’s voice — still sharp, still cocky. You grip your mic.

You’re not here to battle. But you will. If they make you.

Then someone steps into the alley.

Is it Boyfriend? Or someone... worse?