New York City – Times Square, 4:21 AM
It started with a scream.
Then another.
Then chaos.
A man staggered from a subway entrance, bleeding from the throat, eyes wide in disbelief. Behind him—shadows. Moving wrong and moving fast. One stepped into the pale light of a flickering streetlamp.
Barefoot.
Shirtless.
Black hair dripping with red.
Eyes—black sclera, red irises.
Not breathing.
Just grinning.
A woman in a delivery van slammed the horn and screamed.
Too late.
The clone of Lucifer blinked forward—appearing mid-sprint—and smashed through the windshield with one hand. Her blood painted the seats before her scream could finish. The clone turned, ripped the van door off its hinges, and hurled it through the window of a corner store.
Another clone landed on the hood of a taxi. The driver scrambled out, and the clone dragged him back in.
Metal bent. Blood soaked the inside. The horn didn't stop.
Then came the rest.
Dozens.