Night.
Somewhere near the harbor, an abandoned community center breathes its last sighs — peeling paint, broken basketball hoops. Tonight it hosts an open handout for addicts trying to kick a new high burning through the city's veins.
They come for help — they get poison.
---
The Strike
Moloch Horn watches from the rafters — massive, motionless. His breath clouds the cold air. Below, a Flock pusher named Spindle hands out free samples. Syringes. Pills. False hope.
Spindle tries to smile at Moloch — tries to break the silence.
> "Boss Crow says you watch tonight. Nobody fights. Nobody squeals."
Moloch says nothing. His grin is enough.
---
Rooftop
Selene perches above — cloak blending with the rusted pipes. Micah's voice hums in her ear.
> "Bad news: this block's full of street cams. Worse news: King Crow wants these people hooked so bad they'll sell their own families to pay for the next hit."
Selene's eyes flick to the broken windows — the hollow faces inside. The city's next generation of ghosts.
> "I'm ending this," she whispers.
---
Below
She drops through the skylight like a hunting shadow. The first thug goes down before he knows she's real — talon across the throat. Spindle squeals. Junkies scatter — stampeding for broken doors.
Moloch watches — unmoving. Not yet.
Selene shoves Spindle against a wall — blade to his jaw.
> "Where's the stock? Who's next?"
He spits blood and giggles.
> "Too late, Raven. They want it now. You're too small. The city's already ours."
---
The Horn Unleashed
A shape moves behind her — massive shadow, breath like a bull's snort.
Moloch Horn charges — no wasted words. Selene spins — too slow. His shoulder hits her like a truck, slamming her through a crumbling drywall.
Concrete dust and blood fill her mouth. She rolls, claws sparking on the floor.
Moloch cracks his neck.
> "You're small."
He swings — a concrete block of a fist. She ducks — slashes at his ribs. The blade scrapes steel plates under his leather vest.
> "You break easy," he grins.
She flips backward — tosses a feather-blade that nicks his cheek. He just licks the blood, eyes black with glee.
---
Meanwhile — On TV
A bar flickers with static. News at Eleven. A new face: Kara Lennox, ambitious local reporter, gives her first big standup.
> "Tonight, new questions about the so-called Black Raven. Eyewitnesses report a brutal assault at a downtown shelter — some claim the vigilante attacked the innocent. Are we seeing a hero — or a threat out of control?"
A drunk slams his glass down.
> "Hell yeah she's a threat. To them. She's the only thing we got."
A woman in the back shakes her head.
> "Or the thing that'll burn us all down."
---
Ward's Discovery
Elsewhere, Ward sits in a parking garage — rain hammering his windshield. Beside him, a file of hush money payments, shell companies, and Councilman Adair's smiling face under Crow's fingerprints.
He lights a fresh cigarette, smirks at the irony — the good mayor candidate's hands are filthy too. But at least Lawton doesn't have Crow's leash around her throat.
> "Pick your poison, huh?" Ward mutters to himself.
---
The Kid
In the shadows of an alley, a skinny teen in a ragged hoodie peers through a busted fence. Rafi — fourteen, wide eyes, battered sneakers. He holds an old flip phone, recording shaky clips of Selene and Moloch's battle inside.
Under his breath: "Get him, Bird. Get him good."
---
Back to the Fight
Moloch lifts Selene by the throat — slams her against a beam. Her gauntlet claws dig into his arm, drawing real blood at last. He drops her — she rolls, staggers, lunges back in.
She fights like a cornered hawk — slashing tendons, weaving under sledgehammer fists. He laughs through broken teeth — a monster who likes the pain.
Finally, she blinds him — a flash drone from her belt, bright enough to sear retinas.
She flees — battered but alive — as sirens wail outside. Moloch roars behind her, tearing a pipe from the ceiling, hurling it into the darkness.
---
Tiny Sparks
Later. The Nest. Selene slumps at her desk — shoulder iced, ribs taped. Jess sits beside her, brushing damp hair from her eyes. She leans in — just enough that their foreheads touch.
> "I don't care what you are," Jess whispers. "As long as you come back."
Selene lets out a broken laugh — softer than anything she's known in months.
Micah peeks in, sees them, rolls his eyes.
> "Ugh. Gross. Feelings. Can we kill something instead?"
They laugh — and for one breath, the shadows feel just a fraction lighter.
---
Elsewhere
King Crow watches the footage — Moloch's grin, the wreckage, the fleeing junkies. He taps his glass against a dirty map of the city's veins.
> "She runs tonight. Tomorrow, she crawls."
He slides two files across the table — one stamped Councilman Adair, the other Mayor Grace Lawton. Same game. Same cage.
---
And on a rooftop —
Rafi crouches beside a chimera of old cell phones and stolen police scanners. He replays the blurry clip of Selene fighting Moloch over and over. He whispers to the storm above:
> "One day, I'm gonna be like you, Raven."
---
END OF CHAPTER TWELVE