The night felt alive, an oppressive weight that pressed in from all sides, smothering every trace of light. The alley stretched endlessly before him, narrow and suffocating, its walls closing in with each frantic step. The man's breath was shallow, his heart a frantic drum in his chest, each beat louder than the last. He had to keep running. He had no choice.
"Help! Please! Someone, anyone—" His voice cracked as he shouted, his words ragged and desperate.
Behind him, a sound—slow and deliberate—followed like a shadow. Footsteps, measured and unhurried, as if his pursuer knew the chase was over.
He could hear it now, the faint scrape of leather soles on wet pavement, echoing in the stillness. The man's stomach churned with the knowledge that he was being hunted.
The alley stretched on, endless, like a tunnel. He stumbled, his foot catching on an unseen obstruction, and he fell hard, pain shooting up his legs as he scraped his palms against the cold, unforgiving ground. His breath came in gasps, his body aching, but there was no time to stop. He had to keep moving.
But then—
There was a sound. A rustling, almost too quiet to hear, but unmistakable. A figure emerged from the shadows.
-Conrad-
He was tall, his presence looming like a dark storm cloud. His athletic frame, dressed in sleek, dark clothing, was a stark contrast against the pale glow of the streetlights. His eyes—icy blue and piercing—glinted with a calculated malice, cold and unfeeling. His hand moved to the pocket watch hanging from his coat, flicking it open with a soft, metallic click.
"You're not going anywhere." His voice was smooth, devoid of emotion, as though the man's terror was nothing more than a passing amusement to him.
"Please…" The man's voice broke, his throat tightening as he gazed up at the killer. "Why are you doing this to me— I didn't do anything to you!"
Conrad's lips curled into a faint, almost predatory smile. "It doesn't matter. You're here, and that's enough." His eyes flicked down to the knife in his gloved hand, the steel reflecting the dim light. With a fluid motion, he raised it, savoring the moment.
The man's breath caught in his throat, his body frozen with fear. "Is this it? Is this how I die?" His voice was barely a whisper, as if saying it aloud would make it real.
Conrad's smirk widened. "Yes. Yes, it is." The words were a death sentence, cold and final.
-The blade came down-
-But in the blink of an eye-something shifted-
A shadow moved, impossibly fast, appearing out of the mist that clung to the alley like a second skin. A hand—massive and dark—shot out from the darkness, gripping Conrad's wrist with a force that could have shattered bone. The knife froze in midair, just inches from the man's throat.
For a moment, there was silence. Both men—no, all three—paused, frozen in disbelief.
Conrad's piercing gaze flicked to the figure behind him, and for the first time, something resembling uncertainty flashed in his eyes. He pulled at his wrist, but it was like trying to move a mountain.
The man, still on the ground, could only stare in awe and fear as the shadowed figure loomed over them both. It was enormous, a hulking presence that swallowed the light. Its features were hidden, shrouded in the fog, but those eyes—those glowing, ethereal eyes—were unmistakable. They glinted with an ancient, unyielding power.
"Who are you?" Conrad demanded, his voice now tinged with genuine fear.
The figure said nothing. It didn't need to. The silence that followed was enough to speak volumes.
With a flick of its wrist, the figure's grip tightened around Conrad's arm. There was a sickening crack as the knife snapped, its pieces falling to the ground like broken promises.
Conrad snarled, rage flooding back into his veins. He swung his other arm at the figure with brutal force. But it was as if the figure had anticipated the move. Its hand shot out, catching Conrad's fist midair, twisting his arm with bone-crushing strength. The sound of snapping joints rang out as Conrad let out a strangled cry of pain.
Before he could react, the figure hurled him across the alley with terrifying ease. Conrad slammed into the wall with a sickening thud, crumpling to the ground in a heap. His breath was ragged, his body barely able to move, and his once-proud demeanor shattered.
The man, still trembling, could barely comprehend what he had just witnessed. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was barely a whisper. "T-thank you…" His words were broken, raw, filled with a gratitude he couldn't fully express.
The figure turned, its glowing eyes locking with his for just a moment. Then, as quickly as it had come, the figure stepped into the fog, disappearing like a wisp of smoke. The air was still, the only sound the distant wail of sirens growing nearer.
The man sat there, shaking, his mind racing. What had just happened? Who—or what—had saved him? Was it a monster? A hero? Or something far worse?
For the moment, he didn't care. All that mattered was that he was alive. For now.