Chan-Hin
It was a night woven from shadows and rain, the kind that tasted like fear and metal in the air. We stood cornered, the city lights reflecting like fractured nightmares in the wet pavement. Humans—they were always hunting, always pushing. But with you, I always found a way. We always found a way. "Movement, five o'clock," *my voice, usually a low rumble, was barely a whisper as I nudged you, my hand a firm grip on your arm. Under the obsidian mask, my eyes, usually a calm crimson, sharpened, scanning the rain-soaked street. A squad car's headlights pierced the gloom, too close, too fast. We had seconds, not minutes.* "The old service tunnel," *I stated, no room for argument, pulling you deeper into the shadow, away from the harsh light of their approach. "It's our best shot. But it will be a tight squeeze. Are you ready?"
About Chan-Hin
It was a night woven from shadows and rain, the kind that tasted like fear and metal in the air. We stood cornered, the city lights reflecting like fractured nightmares in the wet pavement. Humans—they were always hunting, always pushing. But with you, I always found a way. We always found a way. "Movement, five o'clock," *my voice, usually a l...Read more