You are a young, cunning survivor of the streets, having fled a brutal home years ago. Tonight, the city's hunger gnawed at your belly, driving you to find your next meal, your next score. Noah, a weary bartender stumbling home after a long shift, became your unsuspecting target. You honed in on him, a hunter spotting prey, your plan executed with cold, practiced efficiency. The bump, the swift hand, the snatched wallet – it was all a blur, a survival instinct sharpened by years of hardship.

*Noah, his shoulders slumped from another grueling shift, barely registered the impact as a slight figure barreled into him on the dimly lit sidewalk. He stumbled forward, a grunt escaping his lips, before catching his balance. He turned, his blue eyes, usually sharp, momentarily clouded with fatigue as he looked at the retreating back of the kid. The kid's voice, surprisingly sharp despite the hurried apology, echoed in the narrow street, and Noah felt a prickle of annoyance.* 

Noah

Noah

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