The rain had stopped, but the city still glistened under the dim glow of streetlights. Manhattan's midnight air carried the scent of wet asphalt, smoke from distant food carts, and the faint hum of life that never truly faded.
High above the street, Jace crouched on the edge of a crumbling rooftop.
Two nights had passed since the warehouse incident near the docks. Normally, a small gang bust like that wouldn't linger in his thoughts, but something about it bothered him.
Victor Kane.
The name kept resurfacing in his mind like a warning bell.
Jace adjusted the black mask covering the lower half of his face as he scanned the streets below. From up here, the city looked peaceful—cars passing by, a couple laughing as they crossed the street, a taxi honking impatiently at a red light.
But Jace knew better.
New York had two faces.
One lived in the light.
The other thrived in the dark.
And the dark was where he worked.
He leaped across the narrow gap between buildings, landing silently on the next rooftop. His boots barely made a sound as he moved, his body flowing from shadow to shadow with practiced ease.
A few weeks ago, he had started noticing patterns—small criminal operations that seemed unrelated at first.
Cargo thefts.
Illegal weapon shipments.
Unmarked vans moving through the city at odd hours.
All of them traced back to one name.
Kane.
Jace didn't know what Victor Kane looked like yet. The man was a ghost in the underworld—rarely seen, never recorded. But his presence was unmistakable.
Where Kane's name appeared, violence followed.
Tonight, Jace intended to learn more.
He pulled a small pair of binoculars from his belt and focused on an alley two blocks away. A black van had been parked there for nearly twenty minutes.
Two men stood nearby, smoking cigarettes.
Both wore dark jackets, the kind criminals favored when they wanted to look ordinary.
Jace lowered the binoculars.
Something about the situation felt wrong.
The men weren't unloading cargo.
They were waiting.
For what?
Jace watched a moment longer.
Then the back doors of the van slowly opened.
Another man stepped out.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a gray coat that reached his knees. Unlike the others, he carried himself with quiet authority.
The smokers immediately straightened.
"Everything ready?" the man asked.
His voice carried across the alley just enough for Jace to hear.
"Yeah," one of them replied. "Shipment's inside."
"Good."
The tall man opened one of the crates inside the van.
Jace leaned forward slightly.
Inside the crate was a metal container roughly the size of a briefcase. Strange markings were carved across its surface—symbols that glowed faintly under the dim alley light.
Jace frowned.
That wasn't ordinary cargo.
A chill ran down his spine.
He had seen markings like that once before.
Years ago.
And they had never meant anything good.
The tall man shut the crate.
"Make sure this reaches the buyer tonight," he said calmly. "Mr. Kane doesn't tolerate mistakes."
There it was again.
Kane.
Jace's jaw tightened.
Whatever was in that crate clearly wasn't something the streets should have.
And if Kane wanted it delivered, it had to be dangerous.
The van doors slammed shut.
The driver climbed into the seat.
The engine started.
Jace made his decision instantly.
He sprinted across the rooftop.
The van pulled out of the alley just as Jace reached the edge of the building.
Without hesitation, he jumped.
He landed on the fire escape of the building across the street, sliding down the ladder before hitting the ground in a crouch.
The van turned the corner.
Jace took off running.
His feet pounded against the pavement as he chased the vehicle through the narrow streets of the district. The driver wasn't speeding—probably trying not to attract attention—but that worked in Jace's favor.
He vaulted over a trash bin.
Cut through a side alley.
Then climbed a low fence with one smooth motion.
The van slowed at a traffic light.
Jace seized the opportunity.
He ran forward and jumped onto the rear bumper.
His gloved hands grabbed the door handle just as the light turned green.
The van accelerated.
Jace clung tightly as the vehicle sped through the streets.
Wind rushed past him as the city blurred into streaks of light.
Inside the van, the men had no idea they had company.
Jace carefully pulled a small blade from his belt and wedged it into the seam of the rear door.
With a slow, controlled motion, he pried it open just enough to slip inside.
He rolled quietly onto the cargo floor.
The crate sat in the center.
The metal case inside hummed faintly.
Jace crawled closer.
The glowing symbols on the surface pulsed softly.
Definitely supernatural.
And definitely dangerous.
Jace reached toward the case.
The moment his fingers brushed the metal—
The van suddenly swerved.
"What the—?!" the driver shouted from the front.
The vehicle screeched to a halt.
Jace froze.
Had they somehow sensed him?
The passenger door opened.
Heavy footsteps approached the back of the van.
Jace slipped into the shadows behind a stack of crates.
The doors burst open.
The tall man from earlier stood there.
His eyes glowed faintly.
Jace's heart skipped.
That wasn't normal.
"Come out," the man said calmly.
Jace stayed silent.
The man's glowing eyes scanned the van interior.
Then he smiled slightly.
"I know you're here."
The air inside the van suddenly felt colder.
Jace slowly rose from the shadows.
"Well," he said quietly, "this is awkward."
The man studied him.
"A masked thief," he said. "How disappointing."
"Not a thief," Jace replied.
"Then what are you?"
Jace stepped forward.
"Someone making sure that crate doesn't reach its destination."
The man chuckled.
"You have no idea what you're interfering with."
"Maybe," Jace said.
Then he attacked.
His fist shot forward, aiming for the man's jaw.
But the man moved faster than any human should.
He caught Jace's wrist mid-strike.
Jace's eyes widened.
The man's grip tightened like iron.
"Interesting," the man murmured.
Then he threw Jace across the van.
Jace crashed into the metal wall, pain exploding through his back.
He rolled to his feet instantly.
This guy wasn't just muscle.
Something supernatural was going on.
The man's eyes glowed brighter now.
"You should have stayed in the shadows," he said.
Jace wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.
"Yeah," he replied.
"Probably."
Then he pulled the knife from his belt.
The blade caught the dim light.
The man tilted his head.
"You think that will help you?"
Jace smirked under his mask.
"No," he said.
"But it might slow you down."
The man lunged.
Jace dodged sideways and slashed the knife across the man's arm.
The blade connected—
But sparks flew.
The man's skin was unnaturally hard.
Jace barely avoided the next punch.
The blow smashed into the van wall, denting the metal.
Okay.
This was bad.
Jace ducked under another swing and kicked the crate toward the van doors.
The metal case slid across the floor.
The man turned toward it instinctively.
That was the opening Jace needed.
He grabbed the case.
Jumped out of the van.
And ran.
Behind him, the man roared in anger.
Jace sprinted down the street, clutching the humming container as his heart pounded.
He didn't know exactly what he had just stolen.
But one thing was certain.
Victor Kane was now aware of him.
And whoever that glowing-eyed man was…
He wouldn't forget this encounter.
Not anytime soon.
As Jace disappeared into the maze of New York's streets, a single thought echoed in his mind.
Tonight wasn't just another mission.
It was the beginning of something much bigger.
And the city was about to learn…
Someone was fighting back.