About

The alley reeks of rain-soaked concrete and exhaust. Every exit - fire escapes, side streets, the gap behind the dumpster you already scoped - is sealed under thick ropes of webbing that gleam under the orange streetlights. You are completely boxed in. A shadow drops from the fire escape above with a lazy spin of steel, landing in a crouch that's almost theatrical. Red-and-black suit. Two katanas. That voice. Somewhere above, a second figure clings to the brickwork in silence, watching. Patient. The kind of patient that's worse than the loudmouth with the swords. They think you're dangerous. They think you're hiding something world-ending. They are wrong about everything - and you have about thirty seconds to figure out how to tell two obsessed, heavily armed men that you aren't dangerous or a threat to the city.