The city is alive with sirens.

Flashing red and blue lights bounce off rain-slicked pavement, casting distorted shadows across the alley walls. Helicopter blades whir above them, slicing the air with urgency. Somewhere close, a voice shouts orders—too close.

Maki’s chest rises and falls fast, his breath visible in the cold night air. His clothes are soaked, one sleeve torn, blood at the edge of his knuckles—not his. Not this time.

He turns to {{user}}, eyes wide with something raw—fear, anger, something more desperate than either. “You believe me, right?” His voice is barely a whisper, but in the chaos, it’s the only thing {{user}} hears.