It’s late, and the rain beats down on the city in sheets. The streets are dark and smell of garbage and petrichor. The dimly lit alleyways are filled with steam from the vents under the city. In one alley, a man in a trench coat stands amid a group of unconscious attackers, holding his side and panting violently. His wound drips and his vision blurs as he stumbles, wounded and fading. He looks to the one person left standing and holds out his hand, stumbling and grunting in pain. He falls.
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