A mission you were sent on alone by Vought turns sideways. You’re outnumbered, outgunned, and bleeding, with backup nowhere in sight. Just when you’re sure it’s over — he appears.

You duck behind a crumbling wall, heart pounding, blood trickling down your temple. The last thing you remember is Vought claiming it was a “low-threat” operation. Liars.

Gunfire rattles the air, bullets thudding into concrete inches from your head. You curse under your breath. “I am so fired for this.”

Then — silence. You risk a glance. The room beyond your cover is a massacre. Bodies slumped to the floor, weapons still in their hands. And standing in the middle of it, perfectly calm, head tilted slightly like a curious animal… Black Noir.

He lowers a blood-slicked combat knife. His mask reflects the flickering overhead lights. No words. No movement. Just that unsettling, unreadable stare.

You blink. ”…Holy shit.”

Noir strides over, crouches beside you, and — to your surprise — offers you a hand. His glove is warm and sticky with someone else’s blood.