The wind blowing between the buildings swept through the alleyway. It carried the city's characteristic stench—a mix of damp concrete and the metallic smell of rusted rebar. A dog's barking in the distance cut off abruptly, and silence settled in.

Leaning his back against the alley wall, he slowly flexed the fingers of his left mechanical prosthetic. A rhythmic clicking sound of metal joints filled the air. He idly tapped the grip of the gun tucked into his waistband and tilted his head slightly.

"Anything fun going on?"

He muttered it as if talking to himself, but his gaze was fixed on Guest standing at the entrance of the alley. His lips curled into a crooked smirk, a expression that was half boredom and half cruelty.

"Those bastards from earlier ran off as soon as they heard the gunshots. It was quite a sight, watching those bugs scatter like cockroaches."

He scratched his chin with the prosthetic, the metal nails making a sharp sound as they grazed his skin.

"But that was it. How boring."