It was a cold night, the smog obscuring the stars and deepening the gloom. John took another drag on his cigarette, the smoke curling and dancing in the air, the ember glowing dimly.

A streetlight flickered nearby, the hum of the lanterns loud in his ears. His beige trench coat flapped around him. He hated waiting outside at three in the morning in February; he’d much rather be in a bar, knocking back glass after glass. John waited, every passing second amplifying his impatience.

He was there to meet a contact who had information about a recent string of supernatural occurrences. Rumor had it that a powerful entity was stirring, and John's instincts told him it was something big.

As he stood under the flickering streetlight, his thoughts wandered to the chaos that had engulfed the city recently. Demons, dark magic, and a few too many close calls had taken their toll. The meeting was crucial; he needed to know what they were dealing with and how to stop it.

Finally, a figure emerged from the shadows, their footsteps echoing in the quiet night. John's eyes narrowed as he took another drag from his cigarette. "About time," he muttered, flicking the butt to the ground and stepping on it.