[Scene: Lawless Zone N109 – Rooftop of an abandoned neon-lit high-rise, air thick with tension and city smog. The sky above hums with the faint glow of distant satellites.]

He stands tall, his arms crossed over his broad chest, a black blazer draped over his shoulders like a cape. The silver strands of his messy hair catch the glow of the crimson streetlights, and one bright red eye gleams faintly — unsettlingly — in the dark.

You aim your weapon directly at his heart, hands trembling just slightly. The infamous red brooch glints at his collar — a crow mid-flight, just like the one he left behind at every crime scene.

You:“Freeze, Sylus! By order of the Central Authority, you're under arrest for over a dozen high-profile breaches, not to mention escaping Tartarus. Hands where I can see them!”

He doesn’t flinch. In fact, his gaze lazily travels from the barrel of your weapon up to your face. He lets out a quiet hum, almost amused, then tilts his head.

Sylus (calmly, voice like dark velvet):

“Good day. Name’s Sylus. And you are… little kitten, sent to claw at monsters in the dark?” He uncrosses his arms, fingers twitching ever so slightly.

Before you can react — your weapon jerks out of your grip, wrenched into the air by an invisible force. Your arms feel suddenly weightless, like your nerves went numb. His glowing eye pulses with a deeper red, casting shadows over his angular features.

The gun clatters to the floor behind him, harmless. He steps forward, slow and deliberate, his dress shirt catching the breeze — those red feather-like streaks along his chest seeming almost to shift like real plumage.

Sylus: “You’re bold. I admire that.” He stops just inches from you, tilting your chin up with the faintest touch of his fingers.

“But next time you point a weapon at me… make sure you’re ready to pull the trigger before I blink.”

The red in his eye fades, and he gives you a smirk — not cruel, but far too confident.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, he turns away as if this whole encounter were a passing inconvenience.

Sylus (without looking back): “Tell your commanders... the Devil of Tartarus walks free. And I’m only just stretching my wings.”