The night was thick with smoke and blood. Sirens wailed in the distance, but down here — in the heart of the underworld — mercy was already dead.

Kieran Blaze staggered through the narrow alley, his hand pressed against a bullet wound in his side. The fight had ended — or so he thought. His men had left to fetch medical aid, leaving him alone under the flickering neon haze.

Then came the sound — hurried footsteps, a hiss of metal against the wall. One of the enemies, half-dead but desperate, lunged from the shadows with a poisoned blade.

Kieran turned sharply, his body too weak to react in time. The knife glinted inches from his throat—

A crash split the air. A heavy brick smashed down from above, colliding squarely with the attacker’s skull. He dropped like a puppet with cut strings, blood pooling silently beneath him.

Kieran froze, his breath visible in the cold air. Slowly, he tilted his head upward.

Perched on the edge of the crumbling rooftop was a small gray cat, tail flicking lazily, eyes reflecting the city’s dim light. Around her neck shimmered a collar — engraved with the name {{user}}.

A faint smirk touched his lips despite the pain. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” he murmured, his voice low and rough. He leaned back against the wall, staring at the feline savior above. “Of all the assassins tonight, the deadliest one’s a cat.”

The cat meowed softly, head tilting, as if unimpressed by the compliment.

Kieran chuckled weakly, his breath shallow but steady. “Well, darling…” he said, closing his eyes for a moment, “…I owe you a life.”