(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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Rivermoor City...
As the Night grew darker...
From high above, Rivermoor spread out beneath him like a living map.
Jetray slowed, gliding in a wide arc as he looked down at the city.
Buildings clustered tightly together, rooftops packed close as if competing for space.
Lights glimmered from workshops still running late into the night, and the distant scent of salt carried upward from the docks.
Rivermoor thrived on cloth and sea—textile mills humming even after sunset, fishing vessels rocking gently along the harbor, markets preparing for the early morning trade.
Busy. Alive.
Unaware.
Jetray descended.
Air rushed past his wings as he angled down, speed bleeding away with practiced control.
He landed softly atop a clock tower near the city's center, talons gripping the iron rod at its peak. The metal vibrated faintly under his weight, then settled.
He straightened and looked out over the city below.
Night had fully claimed the sky.
"...."
"...."
"...."
A massive moon hung overhead, pale and unbroken, bathing Rivermoor in silver light.
Cool wind swept past the tower, tugging at his wings and flowing around him like a living thing.
Ben felt it then.
The height. The silence above the noise.
The strange sense of watching without being seen.
He almost laughed.
'So this is why they do it, Spider-Man. Batman.'
He thought looked at the scenery before him little awe.
There was something grounding about it—standing above everything, feeling the city breathe beneath you, knowing that for this moment, you were its quiet guardian.
Jetray's gaze sharpened as he scanned the streets below, alleys threading between buildings like veins.
Somewhere down there, a predator was moving.
"...."
And from his perch beneath the moonlight, Ben watched.
Back Alley...
Near the Docks...
The alley behind the house was narrow and poorly lit, the stone walls damp from the sea air.
A single lantern hung near the back door, its flame flickering weakly in the night breeze.
The woman and the man stood close, their voices barely above a whisper.
"I'll talk to him,"
The man said quietly.
"Soon. I promise. He deserves to know the truth… even if it destroys everything."
She wrapped her arms around herself.
"He's your best friend, I never wanted it to turn into this."
"I know,"
-Sigh
He replied, rubbing his face.
"But it already has."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"...."
"...."
Then, almost instinctively, they leaned in and shared a quick kiss—hesitant, guilty, hurried.
She pulled back first.
Her eyes darted down the alley, checking the shadows, the corners, the rooftops.
Satisfied that no one had seen them, she turned, unlocked the door, and slipped inside.
The door closed.
-THUD.
"...."
The light went out.
Silence returned.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The Man stood alone adjusted his hat and let out a long, exhausted sigh.
-Sigh
"…I never should've given in, One mistake… and now all this."
He muttered under his breath.
He shook his head, running a hand through his hair.
"Only God could save me now,"
-Chuckle
He added bitterly letting out a chuckle.
He turned to leave.
That was when the shadows moved.
-Thud
"...."
Something descended from above—almost soundless.
A shape formed behind him.
Dark coat. Wide-brimmed hat.
White gloves pristine against the night.
A monocle gleamed briefly in the moonlight as the figure straightened, resting both hands atop a polished walking stick.
A strange chuckle echoed softly through the alley.
-Kukuku
The man froze.
"...."
He turned slowly.
"What the—Who are you?"
He began, stepping back instinctively.
The figure bowed deeply, movements elegant and precise, like a gentleman greeting an audience.
"Ah,"
He said pleasantly, voice smooth and amused.
"How rude of me."
He straightened.
"I am Jack,"
He continued enthusiastically.
"A humble salon artist."
A pause like he had forget the next word.
"Though you may know me better by another name."
The man swallowed nervously thinking about the recent rumors.
-Gulp
"...."
"…Ripper."
Confusion flickered across his face.
Fear followed a heartbeat later.
Before he could ask another question—
"...."
The world ended. Execution
There was no scream. Only motion.
Jack's fingers elongated unnaturally, skin parting as polished blades slid free—thin, razor-sharp knives gleaming silver in the moonlight.
One precise movement.
The man's head separated cleanly from his body.
Another flick of the wrist—
The torso split. Limbs fell. Blood painted the stones in silence.
The body collapsed in pieces before it could even realize it was dead.
Jack straightened, flicking crimson from his blades as though annoyed by a stain.
He placed the walking stick back against the ground.
Then—
He whistled.
-Whistle!!!
A sharp, lilting note.
From the darkness, shapes descended.
Cats slinked from rooftops.
Ravens dropped from the sky.
They descended upon the remains without hesitation, each claiming a piece, vanishing back into the night as quickly as they had appeared.
Within moments—
The alley was empty.
Clean.
Jack adjusted his gloves and glanced toward the woman's darkened window.
"…As expected,"
He murmured with a soft smile.
Then he stepped back into the shadows—
Inside the House...
The woman moved quietly through the bedroom, her eyes drifting toward the far side of the room.
Her husband wasn't there.
The bed was untouched.
His coat still missing from its hook.
'His shift isn't over yet,'
she realized let out a slow, relieved sigh she hadn't known she was holding.
-Sigh
"...."
For a moment, the house felt safe again.
She went to the restroom, turned on the water, and let the warmth wash over her.
Steam filled the room, blurring her thoughts, dulling the guilt that had been pressing against her chest all evening.
When she returned to the bedroom, towel wrapped around her, she began to dress.
That was when she heard it.
Thud. Thud.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
"...."
Footsteps. Soft. Measured.
Her shoulders relaxed instinctively.
"You're late again,"
She said lightly, fastening a button.
"Did you forget you have a sweet wife waiting for you at home?"
There was no answer.
"...."
The footsteps stopped.
A chill crept up her spine.
She turned and saw a man sat at the small table near the window.
Dark coat. Wide-brimmed hat resting low. White gloves spotless.
He was calmly eating the cookies she had left out earlier, crumbs resting neatly on a napkin.
A monocle caught the moonlight as he looked up at her.
She stiffened her hand moved instantly.
A grimoire flickered into existence beside her, pages fluttering as water gathered around her fingers—thin streams coiling, ready to strike.
"Don't move,"
She said sharply, fear threading her voice.
The man chuckled softly, unfazed.
-Kukuku
"Why, did you cheat on your husband?"
He asked pleasantly with a smile,
The question landed like a slap.
"...."
Her breath caught.
"He was loyal,"
The man continued, brushing a crumb from his glove.
"Faithful. Kind. A man who worked himself to exhaustion just to give you a comfortable life."
Her grip on the spell wavered.
"...."
"And yet, you chose otherwise."
He went on, voice calm, almost curious.
Her heart began to pound.
"...."
"H-How do you know—"
She started, panic rising as her thoughts raced.
'How did he get in? Where is my husband?'
Jack tilted his head slightly, studying her reaction with interest.
"…Now now, There's no need to panic."
He said gently, But her breathing had already quickened.
"...."
The water magic trembled around her fingers.
Her voice trembled as she steadied herself.
"…Who are you?"
The man did not answer.
Instead, he let out a soft snort—almost amused.
-Snort
"Garbage collectors, We come to take out the trash of this house."
He said calmly while taking a bite of a cookie.
Her eyes widened in realization the guy before him was not a normal guy.
Before she could react, his fingers twisted unnaturally.
Metallic glints flashed as his flesh reshaped, blades extending where fingertips should have been—thin, precise, impossibly sharp.
At the same time, a grimoire burst open beside him, pages flipping rapidly as mana surged through the room.
Fear finally took hold.
She reacted on instinct.
"Water Magic—Shield!"
A thin, single-layered barrier formed in front of her, shimmering faintly as water condensed into a protective curve.
It lasted less than a second.
Jack moved the blades passed through the shield as if it weren't there at all.
Her spell shattered, she felt a sudden, crushing pain in her chest.
Her breath vanished.
Her eyes widened in disbelief as Jack's arm withdrew—slow, deliberate.
She stared at him, horror frozen across her face, unable to scream, unable to move.
Then her body went limp.
She collapsed onto the bed, lifeless.
Aftermath Jack worked in silence.
"...."
Methodical. Unhurried.
When he was finished, the room bore the unmistakable signs of his pattern—the same marks found on every victim before her.
Satisfied, he wiped his blades clean and retracted them back into human fingers.
He adjusted his coat and glanced once more at the still body lying in the blood-soaked sheets.
"…Order restored,"
He murmured like he was some kind of hero.
Then he stepped away from the bed, moving toward the window.
The night swallowed him whole.
Leaving behind another crime scene—
And a city still unaware that a hunter was walking its streets.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N)Thanks for reading the chapter!
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