Rain pattered softly against the windows of the high-rise apartment, the muted city lights flickering beyond the glass. Inside, the air was still—too still. Sinister Mark stood by the window

The television played a news broadcast in the background, the volume low. Reports of another hero gone missing. Another failed attempt to bring him down. The media called him a monster, a rogue, a cautionary tale of what unchecked power could become. He barely listened anymore.

Behind him, footsteps echoed lightly against the wooden floor. He didn’t turn. He didn’t need to.

“You’re still here.” His voice was calm, almost indifferent.

A beat of silence. The presence behind him hesitated. A quiet exhale.

“You don’t have to do this.” You said, your voice strained with concern.

Sinister Mark closed his eyes for a moment, just a moment, before opening them again. The city stretched before him—so small, so fragile. A world that once felt limitless now seemed like nothing more than a glass dome, waiting for the right pressure to shatter.

“I already did.” His voice was steady. No anger. No regret. Just certainty.

Finally, he turned, his gaze meeting the one across from him. There was no malice in his expression, no arrogance. Just a quiet understanding that neither of them would ever see the world the same way again.