The city didn't sleep, not really. It just changed faces.
Neon lights flickered over rain-damp streets. Horns blared in the distance, muffled under the hum of life that never quite died down. Zayid moved like a shadow through alleyways, his hood up, feet soundless against the concrete. Every corner he turned, every rooftop he leapt across, felt familiar. The city was his maze, and he was the ghost that haunted it.
But tonight felt... different.
He stopped near the old train station, where rusted rails and forgotten benches sat like relics. It was a place people avoided. Too quiet. Too empty.
Except it wasn't empty tonight.
Voices. Tense, angry, and close.
Zayid lowered himself behind a dumpster, his enhanced hearing sharpening on the conversation. One voice was panicked, the other two low and threatening.
"Come on, man, I already paid last week!" the panicked voice pleaded.
"This isn't about last week," a rough voice snapped. "This is about respect."
Zayid climbed the side of a building and looked down from the fire escape. Two guys in dark clothes cornered another teen against the wall. The streetlight flickered above them, casting long shadows over the scene.
He didn't wait.
A moment later, Zayid dropped silently into the alleyway. His presence was like a ripple through still water. The attackers froze, startled.
"Yo, who the hell are you supposed to be?" one sneered.
Zayid said nothing. He simply reached into his jacket, pulling out a mask. The moment it covered his face, everything changed. His body loosened into the stance of someone who had done this before. The other guy lunged with a metal pipe. Zayid blocked with his forearm and spun, using the man's own momentum to slam him into the brick wall.
The second one pulled a knife.
Bad move.
Zayid moved in a blur, disarming him with two swift motions. The weapon clattered to the ground, and a punch to the gut left the thug groaning on his knees.
The boy they were attacking didn't wait to say thanks. He bolted.
Zayid sighed, crouching to pick up the knife. "Still the same city," he murmured.
He stashed the weapon behind a trash bin, then leapt back up the fire escape, disappearing into the shadows before the police sirens could get close.
Across the street, at a glowing party house lined with balloons and laughter, Kari stepped outside.
She leaned against the railing of the porch, watching the distant buildings. Her friend's voice echoed behind her, something about boys and music, but Kari wasn't listening. Her eyes were locked on the rooftop of the old train station.
Movement.
A figure. No, more like a blur, rushed across the roof before vanishing into darkness.
Her breath caught. It couldn't be.
Her thoughts raced. Zayid had left earlier, slipping out in that black hoodie, quiet as ever. There was something about the way he moved. Like he had somewhere else to be. Somewhere dangerous.
Kari rubbed her arms, not from the cold, but from the sudden realization. She had seen him sneak out more than once. And every time, something strange happened in the neighborhood.
She reached for her phone and texted her best friend:
"Hey... I think I know who the mask guy is."
No reply.
Kari stood there a little longer, eyes narrowed. She knew it was crazy. She knew she didn't have proof. But her instincts screamed it louder than any voice in her head.
Zayid wasn't just the quiet boy next door.
He was hiding something.
Zayid's rooftop journey led him back to the apartment. He perched on the ledge for a moment, surveying the city below. The night air carried a mix of smoke, rain, and something else. Something electric. It made his skin prickle.
He felt like someone was watching him.
Zayid turned his head slightly, but saw no one. Just the endless cityscape stretching out in every direction.
"Maybe I'm just tired," he muttered and slipped inside through his window.
The room was just as he left it. Dim, quiet, untouched. His mask went back under his pillow, his jacket into the closet. He fell onto his bed, staring at the ceiling.
This life wasn't glamorous. It wasn't fun.
It was necessary.
And yet… something told him it wouldn't stay in the shadows much longer.
Meanwhile, Kari sat in her room, staring at her notebook.
She flipped to a page where she had scribbled names and patterns. Things she'd noticed. Nights Zayid left. Weird events. Strange sightings.
Her pen hovered above his name.
This was no longer just a theory.
It was a secret waiting to explode.