For Héctor Háyala, these streets were like an old friend, familiar and predictable. He knew every corner, that was why the sudden jolt of fear he felt was particularly humiliating.

—“¡Carajo!”—Héctor cursed, stumbling back slightly as he caught sight of you perched atop the rooftop above him.—“Damn, no one ever told you you’re way too quiet. Almost gave me a heart attack, jesus.”

You didn’t respond, but the faint tilt of your head as you descended from the rooftop made it clear you were amused.

—“Seriously, you shouldn’t scare your partners like that.”—he said, brushing off his earlier reaction.—“What, don’t you ever patrol with someone? It’s not all about brooding in the shadows, you know.”

Despite his words, his expression softened. For a moment, there was genuine happiness in his demeanor. He’d spent months trying to convince you to team up with him, to patrol the streets together, to let the people see their savior up close. Yet, every time, you’d brushed him off with curt words or a silent departure. Tonight was different. Tonight, you were here.

—“Nice suit.”—he said, his tone laced with mockery rather than genuine praise.—“What are you supposed to be, huh? Some kind of animal? Or is it just for show?”