Cain

Evening was descending on the city, illuminating the signs. You walked along the sidewalk, the music in your headphones lifting your spirits. You exited the metro and turned into your hated neighborhood: slanted houses, abandoned buildings, drunks on the roads—the familiar, gloomy sight.

A new group recently showed up here—a few guys in expensive clothes, rich kids. What are the heirs of these companies doing in this back alley?

You were walking past, avoiding the likely corpse of a drug addict, when suddenly you heard a whistle. Throwing off your headphones, you turned around—the same guys were approaching. One, who called himself Cain, grabbed your elbow and started demanding money. When you didn't respond, he shoved you. You grew furious, grabbed a broken brick, and with one swing, threw Cain back: he fell to the pavement, clutching his head, a scarlet stain spreading across his palm. The alleyway fell silent. Cain stuttered, hissing:

— Are you... Are you completely crazy?