The night was thick, almost wet enough to taste. Rain had stopped, but the alley still glistened like polished metal. I moved more slowly this time, boots squelching against puddles, ears straining for the smallest scrape or whisper.
Rust… damp bricks… a faint chemical tang. My pulse picked up.
Near a rusted fire escape, I noticed it. Not just an emblem carved into a wall, but something darker. Skin. Scratched. A hand, or maybe a forearm. Someone had left a mark on purpose. My stomach twisted.
"Okay… yep. That's new," I muttered. "And definitely not boring."
I crouched closer, inspecting the shallow gash. A warning? A signature? Someone knew I would see it. Someone knew… me.
Creak… scrape…
The alley groaned under its own weight, or maybe under mine. I flinched. My thoughts scrambled. Someone's been here; someone wants me involved.
I muttered to the air, sarcastic as always: "Fantastic. Personal invitations now. Just the kind of social life I needed."
Then it hit me. Not just the mark, not just the precision… my name. On a nearby wall, faintly scrawled in wet paint: the letters almost blurred, but unmistakable. Someone knew me. Really knew me.
A shiver ran down my spine. Excitement, fear, and curiosity all tangled into that familiar knot in my gut. I stuffed the emblem into my pocket. I wasn't just noticing anymore. I was in it.
Splash… a distant puddle echoed. Footsteps? Or just my imagination running ahead? Couldn't tell. Didn't matter. I had a choice: run, hide, or follow. My luck and my stubbornness decided for me.