Alex moved deeper into the trashed apartment, each step deliberate, his senses sharpened. The air inside was stale with the lingering scent of fear—sweat, dust, and something coppery underneath. He crouched near the wall where the blood had streaked and ran a finger over the dried smear. Flaky, old… but not too old. Maybe a few hours at most.
The trail of droplets led him toward the narrow hallway and to the back of the apartment. He followed it quietly, eyes scanning every detail. A scuffed heel print on the wall. A broken phone screen on the floor. A knocked-over lamp.
At the end of the hallway, the blood trail led to the back door… and vanished.
Alex opened the door slowly. The small concrete stairway outside led down into an overgrown alley behind the building. But the trail stopped cold just outside the door—no more drops, no drag marks, nothing.
"Damn it…" he muttered.
Whoever took Sue—or whoever she ran from—had cleaned their tracks well. That wasn't a junkie's panic. It was calculated.
Still, something didn't sit right. Alex stepped back inside and scanned the kitchen, looking for anything that might've been overlooked. He opened the cabinet above the sink and found nothing but canned soup and dust. Then he opened the one beneath the sink—cleaning supplies, mostly, and—
A flash of color.
Wedged behind a bottle of bleach was a folded piece of paper, stained slightly at the corner. Alex carefully pulled it out and unfolded it. The handwriting was quick and messy, written in smudged blue ink:
"If anything happens… look for Krow at the Rail Terminal. Tell him 'Sue said she's calling in her last favor.'"
Krow. Rail Terminal. Last favor.
He folded the note and slipped it into his jacket pocket, glancing once more around the wreckage of the apartment. Whoever Krow was, he was either someone Sue trusted—or someone she was desperate enough to gamble on.
Alex headed for the front door, stopping only to take one last look at the blood-smeared room behind him.
Then he stepped out into the dusk, locking eyes with the horizon like it had just challenged him.
"Alright, Sue," he muttered. "I'll find this Krow."
Then, quieter:
"And I'll find you."
Alex's boots hit the pavement with quiet, steady rhythm as he walked his bike out of the alley behind Sue's apartment. The streetlights were flickering on now, casting long shadows between the buildings. The city around him was loud—horns, voices, sirens—but in his mind, it was all drowned out by one thing:
Krow. Rail Terminal. Last favor.
He knew the terminal. Everyone did. It was a half-abandoned rail hub in the outskirts of Queens—part freight yard, part derelict commuter station, now more often used by squatters, drifters, and gangs than actual trains. If Sue had left a message pointing to that place, then things were worse than he'd thought.
He mounted his bike and took off, the engine purring like a sleeping wolf beneath him as he threaded through traffic and side streets.
By the time Alex reached the terminal, night had fully taken the sky. The place was bathed in a sickly orange glow from old streetlamps that hadn't been replaced in years. Graffiti covered every wall. Broken glass crunched under his tires as he coasted to a stop near the southern gate.
Tall fences lined the perimeter, but they were rusted through in places. He walked his bike to a hole in the fence and slipped through.
The air inside the terminal was different—quieter, heavier.
As Alex moved between old train cars and gutted platforms, he stayed low, careful. Every creak, every echo in the distance could be someone watching—or waiting.
He followed the winding concrete path past rusted freight containers and weeds growing through the floor. Then he saw it—an old maintenance shack with light spilling out of its narrow window.
Inside, silhouettes moved.
Alex stepped closer, hand near the hilt of his Devil Cane—just in case.
He knocked—three short taps, same as at Sue's.
Silence.
Then, the door cracked open, and a sliver of a face peered out—older, lined, eyes sharp with suspicion.
"You lost or stupid?" the man grunted. His voice was hoarse like gravel. A long scar ran from his left brow to his ear.
Alex didn't flinch. "Sue sent me. Said to call in her last favor."
The door opened a bit wider. The man's face hardened at the name.
"Did you say Sue?" he asked.
Alex nodded—only to suddenly raise his cane just in time as the man lunged at him with a knife.
Without hesitation, the attacker swung again, this time aiming for Alex's head with a hidden blade tucked in his sleeve. Alex twisted, deflecting it with the cane and stepping back smoothly.
"I'm a friend of Sue," Alex said calmly.
"That makes it worse," the man growled.
He lunged again.
But Alex didn't retaliate. He simply dodged, letting the man wear himself out. The attacker hesitated, trembling slightly now. His stance faltered as he watched Alex closely—and then froze.
Because something was changing.
Behind Alex, the shadows twisted.
Rising behind him was a monstrous figure—twice Alex's height, its form made entirely of shifting black mist. Its face was a blur of darkness, save for two glowing eyes and a mouth full of jagged white teeth. The air chilled as the thing silently growled, its claws long and razor-sharp, curling from inky arms.
The man stumbled back, eyes wide with fear.
Alex stepped forward, calm and controlled, as the beast loomed behind him.
"Ready to talk now?" he asked, voice low.
With a flick of his wrist, the shadows pulled back and reformed into the back half of his companion—Shadow Fury: Cypher—still half-merged with the dark mist at his back.
The man fell to one knee, chest heaving.
"...What the hell are you?"
"I told you," Alex said. "I'm a friend of Sue. I'm not your enemy—unless you make me one."
The man—Krow, as Alex would later learn—stared at the ground in silence. His knuckles were pale, trembling, as the knife clattered onto the floor with a hollow clang.
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