The gray clouds loomed heavy in the sky, pouring black droplets of rain that painted the towering skyscrapers with streaks of darkness. Thunderclaps echoed through the night, a symphony of chaos that masked the silent presence of two shadowed figures. They stood atop a high-rise, their cloaks billowing in the storm's restless wind, motionless as statues yet brimming with purpose.

Their gaze, hidden beneath the shroud of their hoods, pierced through the storm and locked onto a single point—a building bathed in neon lights, its edges sharp against the darkened skyline. No, it wasn't the building itself that captured their attention. It was what lay inside.

Through the massive glass windows of a VIP suite, a man lounged in a lavish blue-lit room, his silhouette framed by the cold glow of neon. The red couch he occupied stretched wide, luxurious and indulgent, as two young women, barely in their twenties, circled him with coy laughter and sly smiles.

The man—Valmor—was no ordinary occupant. He was their target. Their mission. The figures watched in silence, their breaths calm, their bodies still. Death followed them like a shadow, and they lived only for the hunt, eager to spill blood in exchange for credits. It was what they thrived on.

One of the women perched beside Valmor giggled as she fed him grapes. Her crimson bikini clung to her figure, its fiery hue cutting sharply through the serene blue of the room. She teased him with the green fruit, her lips painted to match its vibrant color.

As she leaned closer, she caught sight of something in the distance beyond the rain-streaked window. Two shadowy figures stood motionless atop a distant rooftop, silhouetted against the cascade of black rain. Her laughter faltered, her gaze locking with their eyeless forms.

"What's wrong, baby?" Valmor's voice broke her trance.

She shook her head and forced a smile, brushing the unease aside. Yet, the sight lingered in her thoughts. Who are they? What are they? Am I imagining things? The questions churned in her mind as she resumed her flirtation, trying to act as though nothing was wrong.

Outside, black lightning cracked the sky, followed by a deafening clap of thunder that rattled the windows. She jumped, startled, her composure slipping.

"Scared of a little lightning, are you?" Valmor chuckled, his tone dripping with amusement.

She glanced back toward the figures—but they were gone. The rooftop was empty, as if her mind had conjured them from nothing.

She turned back to Valmor, handing him the last bunch of grapes. Another flash of lightning illuminated the room, accompanied by another thunderous boom. Then, the room plunged into darkness.

Her breath quickened, panic seizing her chest.

"Relax! It's just a blackout," Valmor muttered, unconcerned.

The lights flickered back on, and the scene before them stole the air from the room.

The figures were there.

No longer distant silhouettes, they now loomed over Valmor in the center of the room. Cloaked in shadowy black, their dripping rain-soaked cloaks shrouded them completely. Their wide straw hats leaked streams of black water, pooling at their feet. Beneath the hats, faded white wooden masks obscured their faces. The masks were featureless save for two hollow eye sockets, giving no hint of emotion or humanity.

The girls froze, their bodies rigid with terror.

"It's... it's... Sangetsu!" one of them stammered.

Both women scrambled for the exit, tripping over each other in their haste to escape. Their screams faded as they disappeared down the corridor.

Valmor remained seated, paralyzed by fear. His bright orange suit and black tie were now stained with sweat.

"Dammit... Sangetsu!" he croaked. "Who sent you?"

The figures did not answer. They stood as still as statues. One of them slowly raised a small device, its holographic screen projecting an image of a black vault.

Valmor's eyes widened in recognition. He flinched, instinctively drawing a pistol from his jacket and aiming it at them. Yet the Sangetsu did not move, their cold silence unwavering.

"You want the key, don't you?" Valmor muttered, his voice trembling. "Fine! I'll give it to you—but you spare my life. Deal?"

He slid the first key card across the floor, then hesitated before tossing his personal override key.

"There! Now leave me alone!" he yelled, his voice cracking.

Outside, a piercing scream echoed through the halls. It was one of the girls.

Valmor's face turned pale. "Where... where's security?" he whispered, his voice shaking.

The Sangetsu didn't answer. They didn't need to. The blood-soaked remains of his guards spoke volumes.

Realizing the key cards weren't enough, Valmor's fear turned to desperation. "You'll never take it!" he screamed, raising his pistol and firing a barrage of laser rounds at the figures.

The beams sliced through the air, but the Sangetsu moved like ghosts, their forms unfazed. Before Valmor could fire again, one of them vanished in a blur, reappearing behind him with a flash of steel.

With surgical precision, Valmor's hand was severed cleanly at the wrist. His screams filled the room as he crumpled to the floor, clutching the stump where his hand had been.

The Sangetsu didn't flinch.

The other figure stepped forward and delivered the final blow, silencing Valmor's screams forever.