"Son of a-!" Holt screamed as he emerged into the air, falling onto a rooftop of yet another building. He landed on the edge of his shoes, bringing his weight and body down while making contact with the roof's surface with his hand, before dropping slightly.
Dammit not again! Holt wondered as he looked at the demon behind him. Cultro was floating mid air, hovering downward onto the roof.
"Why the hell we here again?" the boxer demanded, before the demon pointed behind him. Holt got up to his feet, stretching his body and maintaining his posture, before he looked over the edge of the rooftop, and realized he was in an alleyway.
A dead body emerged on the ground, and there were cops approaching the body itself. The body was that of a man, perhaps in his late 20s or early 30s. The corpse bore a caramel colored shirt, but bruises emerged on the dead man's hands and arms, and when it came to his neck, there was a large black gash.
