The city of Glora never slept, but tonight it felt… different. The streets smelled of rain on asphalt and oil, neon reflections glinting across puddles like fractured memories. Waza walked alone, hoodie tight against his shoulders, Selene a few paces behind him, watching him with a sharp, calculating gaze.
Three weeks had passed since the last encounter with the Mysterious Stranger's group. Every night, every shadow, every flicker of movement in the city had been logged in Waza's mind, cataloged, and measured. The hum under his skin the Vein pulsed gently now, guiding him, whispering rhythms he barely understood but trusted.
Selene spoke first, her voice low, almost teasing.
"You know," she said, "you could smile once in a while. You scare half the city without even trying."
Waza didn't look at her. "Smiling doesn't make people notice the streets better. Observation does."
Her grin flickered, half amusement, half challenge. "And yet here you are, walking into trouble because curiosity isn't enough to keep you safe."
He paused at the corner of Daven Street, eyes scanning. A lone figure lingered under a flickering streetlight a scout from the Mysterious Stranger's crew, Waza guessed instantly. No weapons drawn, no movement out of place… yet every micro-shift in posture screamed intent.
Selene stepped beside him. "Want me to handle it?"
Waza's hand twitched, but he shook his head. "Let me see first." He stepped forward, slow, careful, the city noise fading into a quiet rhythm only he seemed to hear. The Vein pulsed, brighter under his skin, syncing with his heartbeat.
The scout turned suddenly, and for a fraction of a second, Waza saw the same shimmer the faint echo of the Vein. A warning? A marker? Something connected. He didn't know, but instinct screamed.
Before he could react, Selene moved, graceful and lethal, intercepting the scout with a subtle gesture. The man froze, studying her, then vanished into a side alley as if swallowed by the night.
Waza exhaled, a small but sharp release. "It's only getting sharper," he said. "They're learning… or maybe they're already watching more than we know."
Selene's eyes softened, just for a moment. "You've changed. Quiet, but deadly. Not many could walk the streets like you do and survive."
Waza's gaze drifted upward, toward the taller towers of Glora, their tops lost in mist and neon haze. "I'm not just surviving," he said, almost to himself. "I'm learning the city. Every street, every shadow… every hand that reaches for power. Soon, Glora won't feel small anymore."
Selene caught his glance. "You're thinking bigger than this city, aren't you?"
He nodded, slow. "Every pattern here… it's just the beginning. Other cities, other streets… the Vein doesn't stop at Glora. And neither do I."
The hum pulsed stronger, like a drumbeat inside his chest. Waza clenched his fists. For the first time, he let the quiet thrill of anticipation wash over him. The streets he had walked so cautiously now felt like the threshold to something larger, something dangerous but irresistible.
Selene placed a hand lightly on his shoulder, a silent acknowledgment of trust, of connection. Not love not yet but a bond forged in observation, survival, and shared secrets.
Waza looked at her, then at the city that had raised him in silence and shadows. "Tomorrow," he said, "we push further. We see more. We test everything."
The neon lights of Glora shimmered like veins across the city, and for a moment, the hum, the city, and Waza's pulse were one.
And somewhere in the shadows, unseen, eyes followed. Notes were taken. Games were set.
The city had grown, but Waza knew one thing: he had only just begun.