The man finally clawed his way to the surface. Gasping for air, he fumbled with one of the metallic circles at his waist and extracted a strength pill. His hands trembled as he brought it to his lips and swallowed. A smirk twisted across his dirt-streaked face. "No one dares mess with my plans," he muttered, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and rage. "If they do, they'll have hell to pay."
He sprinted toward the distant field where he'd placed the tracker, his heart pounding with urgency. The watch lay buried underground, and he needed to pinpoint its exact location to discover Edward's whereabouts. When he reached the field, he spotted a disturbed patch of dirt among the grass. He dropped to his knees and dug frantically until his fingers closed around the watch. After prying it from Edward's severed hand, he fastened it to his own wrist. "It might be cracked," he said, examining the spider-web fractures across its face, "but it's useful enough."
Meanwhile, across town, a young man strolled down a quiet street, grocery bags swinging from his hands. The evening air felt cool against his skin as he made his way home, lost in mundane thoughts about dinner. He didn't notice the shadow that slithered behind him, didn't sense the malevolent presence tracking his every step.
Without warning, a shadowy hand tipped with a gleaming blade erupted from the darkness and pierced his back, severing his spine. The groceries tumbled from his grasp as he collapsed. He tried to look up, but his body refused to obey. His face pressed into the dirt, and panic flooded through him as he realized he couldn't move. The being loomed over him, a nightmare made flesh.
Dirt and sand filled his mouth, choking him as they invaded his lungs and blocked his airway. The blade remained lodged in his spine, a cold presence that radiated agony through his paralyzed body. His spinal cord had snapped from the force of the strike. Despair washed over him in waves as darkness crept into the edges of his vision. The last sense to abandon him was his hearing—that final thread connecting him to the living world. In those terrible final moments, he heard nothing but silence. Utter, complete silence. Then footsteps, as the thing that had murdered him walked away without a backward glance.
The groceries lay scattered across the pavement. Within minutes, some opportunistic passerby simply stepped over the corpse, snatched up the bags, and disappeared into the night without even acknowledging the dead body sprawled among them.
Back in the field, the man examined Edward's watch, his eyes scanning the surrounding area for any sign of whoever had killed his employee. Finding nothing, he decided to search more thoroughly. His mind raced with possibilities and contingencies.
Sin's head snapped up with sudden realization. "I need to get to that field and retrieve that watch," he said aloud, breaking into a run. His agility had improved since the transformation, his muscles responding with newfound precision. "I just have to stay focused. I can't let anyone find that watch first. Can't stop. Must keep running."
Then he saw him. Someone stood directly in his path, holding the watch with a triumphant smile plastered across his face.
"I knew you would come here," the man said, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "You see, I knew you'd try to find the watch—destroy the evidence. That's the logical move, of course. So I waited for you." He paused, savoring his advantage. "You would have been ahead of me if this watch didn't send me an alert when my employee's heart stopped beating. Then you might have caught me off guard. Maybe you would have won." His smile widened into something cruel. "But I think one step ahead, Sin. I know more than you. I plan better than you. And I already know the outcome of this fight—you will die here. If you don't, you'll be so severely injured you'll wish you had."
The man's laughter echoed across the empty field as he fastened the watch to his wrist. His fingers moved to the gadgets adorning his belt—the circles, guns, swords, and various other weapons. He opened another circle and extracted another strength pill, popping it into his mouth with practiced ease.
"These things only last thirty minutes," he explained, almost conversationally, "so I need to use them wisely." His expression hardened as he swallowed every remaining strength pill except one. "The last one stays in reserve. Just in case things go south."
Sin felt exhaustion weighing down his limbs like lead. He'd been tired from fighting Edward, and he'd never gotten a chance to rest afterward. As soon as he'd regained consciousness, he'd had to drag the body to the field, bury it, then return to clean the massive amounts of blood from his room—the floors, ceiling, and walls all splattered with crimson evidence. That alone had drained most of his remaining energy. Whatever had killed Edward while Sin lay unconscious had also sapped his strength in ways he didn't fully understand.
He had no energy left to fight this man who stood before him now, radiating confidence and power. If he tried, he would probably die. Sin swallowed hard, his mind racing through impossible scenarios. How could he escape this situation? What options remained?
A few miles away, in a shadowy alley, the young man's body lay sprawled where he'd fallen. Someone had already stolen his groceries, leaving him alone with the gaping slash across his spine. Police cruisers arrived, their lights painting the walls in alternating red and blue. Paramedics followed close behind.
Officers and medical personnel surrounded the victim, but he was already gone. The paramedics could do nothing but confirm what everyone could see. The police collected what little evidence existed—which amounted to almost nothing. The being that had murdered him had vanished without a trace, leaving no fingerprints, no witnesses, no clues. Initially, they closed the case as unsolvable.
Then someone suggested reopening it. After all, who knew how many more murders might follow?
Back in the field, the man stared at Sin as he activated more circles on his waist. They lined up in sequence, each glowing with a brilliant blue hue, sparking with crackling electricity. He'd powered up all his weapons—small blasters that could pack devastating punches now rested in his hands. Swords and blades hung ready at his waist. He stood prepared for battle while Sin remained utterly unprepared.
"I have to make a hasty escape," Sin whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his own heart.
"You don't have to kill me," he called out, desperation creeping into his tone. "If you do, I'm dead anyway."
He glanced behind him—nothing but endless field stretched to the horizon. No one would hear him if he screamed. And if he ran, where exactly could he go? His apartment wasn't an option; the man would simply follow him there. If his enemy discovered where he lived, Sin would never have another moment's peace. This was a dead end. Sin had no moves left to make.
He would have to fight or die. Even if he fought, he would probably still die. Death waited on both sides of this coin. Sin wasn't going to make it out of this field alive. He was going to die here, and no one would hear him scream. No one would answer his cries. After all, the world had better things to do than search for some guy killed in a remote field.
Sin's chest tightened with the terrible certainty of it. This was the end. This was the end for him, and he would face it alone.