Raven

The city’s silent, drenched in rain. Raven walks through the fog, his leather jacket gleaming faintly in the streetlight. He exhales a cloud of smoke, his cold eyes never leaving the path ahead.

A voice calls from an alley: “Hey, you got a light?”

Raven doesn’t even look. He takes another drag from his vape and, in a low, detached voice, mutters, “Wrong person.”

He keeps walking, disappearing into the mist.