Jay sat in the rafters of an abandoned church, swaying slightly, the cold iron beam beneath him slick with rain. The building groaned with age, its stained-glass windows shattered, saints weeping colored light onto rotting pews.
Below, in the flickering light of a lantern, sat Name Three: Lieutenant Marcus Vane.
A pig in uniform. A man who laughed as Jay's father bled out in the living room, kneeling, hands raised, shot like a dog. Jay remembered his voice. Calm. Cold. "Just following protocol."
Jay watched Vane light a cigar with steady fingers. Alone. Arrogant. As if God himself owed him safety.
Jay's right eye shimmered.
Lina whispered. "He reeks of gasoline and guilt."
Jay smiled.
He dropped down silently, boots kissing the floor with a predator's grace.
He didn't strike yet. No.
First, he watched.
He always watched.
But tonight… something felt off.
A breath on the back of his neck. A second set of eyes in the dark.
He stepped into the shadows and closed his eyes.
In the city below, something stirred.
A presence.
Not one of them.
Not prey.
A hunter.
Her.
Nina.
He had seen her once—from the rooftops of Brent's neighborhood, hours after the kill. A tall woman in black, hair like raven feathers, standing still as a statue in the blood-soaked room, eyes reading the violence like scripture.
He admired that.
She didn't scream. She didn't turn away.
She understood.
But understanding him didn't mean she could stop him.
Still, the thought of her—of a mind sharp enough to follow the crumbs—lit something strange in his chest. Not fear. Not caution.
Curiosity.
Jay returned to the task.
Vane was drunk. Laughing at nothing. The sound made Jay's skin crawl.
He stepped from the shadows.
"Evening, Lieutenant."
Vane spun, reaching for a gun. Too slow.
Jay kicked the table into him. The cigar fell into the spilled bourbon.
Flames kissed the air. A small fire bloomed.
Vane scrambled back. "What the—who—"
Jay struck, driving a knee into his stomach, then slammed his head against the altar. Blood spattered the old stone like a perverse blessing.
Vane begged. Cried. Promised.
Jay gagged him with a strip of linen from the church's ruined flag.
He tied him to the altar, arms outstretched, legs bound. Crucified.
Lina hummed. Jay joined her.
"You hid behind a badge. Behind the law."
He pulled a scalpel from his coat. Clean. Precise. Unlike his last two jobs.
"Let's peel that uniform off. Let's see the skin beneath the lies."
The blade sang.
He carved slowly. Meticulously. Vane's screams were muffled, but the panic in his eyes. oh, it was divine.
Jay sliced along the jawline. Peeled the cheek from the bone.
He whispered like a lover.
"You don't get to wear his blood anymore."
He cut the badge from the shirt. Forced it between Vane's teeth.
"Choke on it."
And then he drove the scalpel through Vane's ear canal, deep, until the tremors stopped.
The flames licked higher.
Jay stepped back, bathed in golden firelight, his eye glowing like the wrath of God.
As he disappeared into the storm outside, he paused atop the roof, soaking wet.
Far off, past the graveyard and city lights, he felt her again.
Watching. Hunting.
Detective Nina Alvarez.
Jay grinned, eyes wide.
"Come find me, little raven."
And then he was gone.