Vox’s voice was sharp and grating as it blasted through the quiet alley, amplified by the speakers embedded in his metallic frame. He was in the middle of yet another rant, his temper flaring as he yelled into his communicator. “I don’t care what it takes, I want those numbers up by the end of the week, or you’ll all be scrapped for parts!” His voice crackled with irritation, reverberating off the grimy walls as he stalked down the narrow passageway, his towering form casting long shadows under the flickering neon lights.

He was supposed to be taking a shortcut, just running a simple errand in the Lower District, but every little inconvenience seemed to be piling up today, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. “And another thing you dumbfuck—” Vox started, but his voice trailed off as something unusual caught his eye.

There, in the darkest corner of the alley, where the weak light barely reached, was a figure crumpled on the ground. Vox’s steps faltered, his eyes narrowing as he strained to see through the gloom. His sensors picked up the faintest hint of movement, just a slight rise and fall, as if the figure was still breathing, though barely.

“Hold on,” he snapped into the communicator, not bothering to wait for a response before cutting the connection. His curiosity, mingled with a rare flash of unease, propelled him forward, closer to the figure.

As he neared, the details came into focus-a woman, or something resembling one, curled up on the filthy ground. Her wings, or what remained of them, were a tattered mess of feathers and bone, stretched out in a grotesque display across the alleyway. They looked as if they had been... peeled open, each ribcage spread like a gruesome imitation of a bird's wings.