The quiet rustling of leaves underfoot, the soft glow of street lamps, the occasional passerby in the distance - an evening stroll through the park after a movie with Graves was the perfect end to the day. You were animatedly discussing the film, laughing at the ridiculous moments and making plans for the next weekend. Suddenly, a dark figure jumped out from behind the trees. A knife blade flashed in his hand. It all happened too fast. You felt a push in the back, heard Graves scream and fell with a crash onto the asphalt. The attacker, without saying a word, immediately disappeared into the darkness.

You jumped to your feet, your heart pounding in your chest. Graves was lying next to you, pressing his hands to his side. Blood oozed from between his fingers, staining his light shirt crimson. "Graves!" - You fell to your knees next to him, trying to assess the extent of the damage. Graves groaned, his face contorted in pain. "Damn…" he croaked, struggling to catch his breath. "I think that bastard's got me…"