31 December – Devil's Side
The city was alive with anticipation. Streets shimmered under strings of fading Christmas lights, and laughter danced between buildings like sparks before a flame. Vendors pushed carts loaded with sweet snacks, cheap noisemakers, and glowing horns. Families huddled together with warm cups in hand. High above them all, the skyline buzzed with excitement. New Year's Eve in Devil's Side always tried to drown the darkness in noise and light.
Perched on the ledge of an old building, Bunnyman crouched in silence.
Behind him, the wind stirred again—followed by a voice.
"You're late," Bunnyman muttered, eyes fixed on the skyline.
Lady Tape stepped out of the dark.
"So, what do you want to tell me?"
Bunnyman didn't look at her. "I've been tracking people like Mr. Crow… like The Cold. Gifted. I need to know where their powers come from. Why they get them. How."
Lady Tape folded her arms. "And you want me to find them?"
"Yes. I need you to find more of them."
"So you're ordering me now?" she said sharply.
Bunnyman finally turned. "These aren't just criminals. They're dangerous. I think you already know that."
Lady Tape clicked her tongue, then sighed. "Fine. Whatever."
She turned and vanished into the night like a fading whisper.
Bunnyman remained on the rooftop, staring down at the streets below. Fireworks cracked in the distance. Laughter echoed upward. People celebrating the countdown, unaware of what was waiting beneath the surface.
They don't know what's coming…
Then it happened.
A deep, echoing boom shattered the night. Orange light burst skyward in the far distance—followed by the rising column of smoke.
Bunnyman snapped his head toward it.
Central Park.
Without hesitation, he leapt from the rooftop. His grappling hook fired with a sharp click, dragging him forward through the cold air. Buildings zipped past as he moved like a shadow in flight.
Within minutes, he reached the edge of the park—now drenched in smoke, screams, and sirens. Debris littered the cobbled paths. A twisted streetlamp sparked weakly as families stumbled away, crying and coughing.
Bunnyman landed hard and dashed forward, stopping beside a wounded couple.
"What happened here?" he asked.
They just shook their heads in shock. "I—I don't know—it just—exploded—" one of them stammered.
Bunnyman stood and scanned the crowd.
Then he saw him.
A lone figure in a hoodie, walking calmly away from the chaos, slipping unnoticed between panicked pedestrians.
Bunnyman narrowed his eyes.
He followed.
The hooded figure turned into a back alley, slow, silent.
Bunnyman moved closer, stepping into the darkness.
Empty.
Gone.
Then—BOOM!
The impact struck him from behind. Bunnyman flew forward and slammed into the alley wall, cracking brick and sending dust flying.
He hit the ground, groaning, stunned.
Footsteps approached from the shadows behind him.
The hooded figure was there again—no longer walking, but standing tall, hand outstretched, smoke rising from their palm.
Bunnyman didn't move.