As I glanced at the bathroom door for what felt like the hundredth, or thousandth time. Tristan had been in there forever, and while I'm not one to rush a man's business, something about tonight just didn't sit right with me. I guess it's probably all the drinks. I took a deep breath and looked over at the bartender, who was busy wiping down the bar.
"So, how long have you been working here?" I asked, trying to keep the chat casual and take my mind off this bad feeling.
She gave me a half-smile, clearly enjoying the easy banter. "Long enough to know the usuals," she said, rolling her eyes. "You gonna become a regular in here or are you just visiting?"
I shrugged. "Just visiting, though… I think I'm starting to like this place."
"Uh huh.."
"Yeah, it's pretty cozy. I think I might start coming here with Tristan more often!"
She chuckled, "I would love the business- even though I would prefer you come without that tomato head!" They bartender nodded towards the TV "Hey, do you like Spark Sports? If so, I think tonight will interest you since LunarFlame is fighting tonight."
I turned to the screen. "It's ok…- not my thing though."
The arena was brightly lit with two people in strange costumes on either side of a stage similar to a boxing or wrestling ring. I'm not into this that much but I've seen a bit of the most recent season since my roommate liked this type of stuff. The lights strobed, several colors, different on either side of the fighters in their respective colors. The in-house audience screamed an applause chanting the stage names.
The two fighters stood on either side of a stage, readying themselves. One of those fighters is LunarFlame. She wears a bright blue costume that seems to shimmer and sparkle like stars. The costume has intricate patterns that resemble blue flames on a dark blue background. It covered her legs to her neck, though there was a gap where the stomach was. She kept an elegant but practical masquerade themed mask on. LunarFlame is a popular fighter in the B-rank tournaments, winning three first place medals and two third place medals within the last year. If I recall correctly, they also are relatively new as well, joining only a year or so ago.
On the other side stands Shadow Viper. He wears a dark, sleek costume that seems to absorb the light. It's adorned with what appear to be scales or dark metal plates and has sharp, pointed accents. The costume shines this subtle rainbow color in the light across each scale. Shadow Viper's face is mostly obscured by a dark mask, giving them an intimidating look. Shadow Viper isn't as popular as LunarFlame but they still have won about five second place medals and three third place medals.
The fight begins with both fighters taking a ready stance. LunarFlame moves with quick, agile steps, confident in her movements. Shadow Viper is more cautious, moving slowly and simply watching for an opening.
LunarFlame launches the first attack, throwing a series of rapid strikes. Each strike was a bright blue fireball the size of a fist. Shadow Viper dodges or blocks most of them with his metal plated costume, but a few manage to land and do a bit of damage. He attempts to counterattack with a swift, low kick, that seems too quick for a normal athlete- but LunarFlame just barely evades it with a backflip and twirl.
The fight continues with both fighters exchanging blows. While both are fast, LunarFlame's attacks pack a punch, as Shadow Viper's are precise. Right now they seem equally matched neither can do much damage to the other. The arena echoes with the sounds of impact and the cheers of the audience.
Shadow Viper swipes, faster than light, and his leg cuts through and leaves a large scar across LunarFlame's stomach. In retaliation, she fires a rapid succession of fireballs then, trying to predict his movements, she punches where Shadow Viper's weak spot would be. She manages to land a strong blow to his neck and upper chest that sends Shadow Viper stumbling back. Seizing the opportunity, LunarFlame follows up with a flurry of strikes, pushing Shadow Viper to the edge of the ring. Shadow Viper struggles to defend, but LunarFlame's relentless attacks prove too much.
Finally, LunarFlame lands a solid hit that sends Shadow Viper tumbling to the ground. Shadow Viper crashes down hard, unable to keep his balance. The referee quickly steps in and declares LunarFlame the winner, drawing a huge cheer and applause from the crowd. I turned back to the bartender, who was busy pouring drinks at a nearby table. I guess I zoned out for a second... What was I doing? Oh right! I raised my eyebrows and asked, "Hey, have you seen Tristan anywhere? You know, dark red hair, dark grey hoodie, reddish-brown eyes, kinda scruffy?"
The other patreon looked at me before looking at the bartender. She scoffed and waved a hand. "You don't have to describe him like I haven't seen his stupid face before! Anyway, it's a no, I only saw him go to the bathroom and I didn't see him leave. Maybe he wandered off to the back entrance. That's where everyone sneaks out when they're trying not to pay their tab. Though, it never works out for them."
That was… ominous… Though, could Tristan have gone to the back entrance? That would explain why I hadn't seen him slip out. I stood up, nodded at the bartender to say thanks and walked over to the back door, pushing through the swinging door into the alley.
The rain was coming down very heavily, I'm surprised I didn't hear it from inside. The alley was empty—no sign of Tristan anywhere. I turned both ways, scanning the puddles, trying to see if maybe he'd slipped in the rain, or... I don't know, he could've gone to puke in the rain or something?...
That's when I saw it. There was a dark red streak in the puddle — kind of like cranberry juice or melted lipstick. The smell mixed with everything else, turning the alley into a place that reeked of rotten cheese and metal. As I stepped closer, I noticed something else- something… familiar.
I bent down, my fingers twitched wanting to reach out, but I stopped myself. It was… I looked carefully. When it clicked what it was, I froze. Right there, in the middle of that red mess, was Tristan's Defender ID. My stomach turned. That wasn't a good sign. This isn't just some accident. Plus, I'm starting to think this isn't juice… I fumbled for my phone, my hands sweaty and trembling as I dialed 911. My breath was short and shallow. The rain hadn't stopped—it soaked through my flannel and stuck my hair to my face, but I barely noticed. The call connected with a soft click.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"Hey! I—I don't know what happened," I stammered, voice shaking. "I think- there's a puddle of what looks like blood! And—and my friend's ID! I can't find him! Just- please, send help!"
"Okay, sir. I need you to stay calm," the dispatcher said, professional but firm. "Can you tell me your location?"
"Uh- yeah! Um—behind the Glass Vein bar, near Old Metro Street. Back alley. Please—just hurry, I think something bad happened."
"We have units en route. Do not touch anything, and stay where you are. Are you safe right now?"
I looked around, hugging my arms tighter. "I—I think so."
"Good. Help is on the way. Stay on the line with me, okay?"
I nodded even though they couldn't see me. "Okay."
The minutes dragged. My phone felt like a brick in my hand, and I couldn't stop staring at the puddle—dark, thick, almost black in the alley light. Tristan's Defender ID sat half-sunken in it. His name was still visible. My chest squeezed. I didn't even realize I was shaking until my teeth started chattering.
By the time the sirens finally cut through the storm, I was soaked to the bone and numb with fear. A pair of cruisers pulled up. Officers jumped out fast, flashlights cutting through the misty rain. They sectioned off the alley with caution tape, talked briefly to me, and began their sweep.
One officer found the dumpster. I saw the way he paused—just for a second—and then waved someone else over. The other officer opened it up with gloves and their face suddenly became a mix of disgust and shock, "Got something…"
I didn't hear the details, but I knew. Even before the murmurs spread. They found a body.
The officer looked at me with a hard expression, calling me over with a single hand motion. "Is this him?"
I peek my head inside the dumpster before quickly averting my gaze. I shook my head, heart racing. "No. That's not Tristan. My friend's got dark red hair, not… blonde- or whatever it was..."
The police didn't seem convinced. They examined the body closer, noting the unusual bite marks on his neck. My stomach churned, but I tried to stay calm, panicking won't help.
"The marks here," one of the officers muttered. "Look like something you'd see in a Tower. They're fresh, a monster could have escaped from there."
"And could've attacked the victim... and maybe the caller's friend too," another officer added, peering at the bloodstains and odd scratches on the alley floor. "Whatever did this knew what they were doing. It's not just any E rank or D rank monster—they hid the body so whatever did this has to have an amount of intelligence."
A chill ran down my spine… I tried not to think about the implications. Instead, I focused on the one thing I could understand—the fear gnawing at my insides. Tristan had to be okay. Whatever this was, whatever had happened to the other guy, Tristan needs to be safe… we didn't survive that tower for no reason…
I stood there, soaked to the bone, arms crossed tightly over my chest like it might keep the worry from leaking out. I couldn't stop picturing that ID card floating in that puddle. Tristan wouldn't have just dropped it. He's a lot of things—awkward, a little too stubborn for his own good—but careless? Not with something like that. He knows it's too important to lose that.
My mind kept spiraling through worst-case scenarios, each more dramatic than the last. What if that red puddle hadn't just been from that guy? What if Tristan—
A hand softly rested on my shoulder. I jerked back in surprise before realizing it was one of the officers—a man with kind eyes and a scar running down his face on the left side. He offered a small, reassuring smile, and I could tell he was trying to comfort me in this whole situation.
"Hey," he said, voice low but steady. "I know you're worried. Anyone would be. But listen—we're going to do everything we can to find your friend."
I swallowed hard, nodding even though it didn't do much to calm myself. I know he has to be fine, but the evidence of otherwise is overwhelming.
"You've done all you could by calling us. Now it's our turn." He gave me a reassuring pat on the back, firm but kind. "What you need to do now is go home. Get some rest. You can have faith in us that we'll do all we can to find them."
"Yeah. Okay," I murmured after taking a deep breath, he's right, all I can do is wait. I wish I gave Tristan my phone number! I was too distracted…
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small notepad. "Before you go, mind giving me your contact info? If we find him—or anything—we'll let you know right away."
I nodded and gave him my number, writing it down carefully even though my fingers were shaking. He tore off the slip and tucked it away.
The officer smiled, "...And for what it's worth, you sticking around out here in the rain? Says a lot. We'll take it from here. But—if you find something, don't hesitate to call or come by the station."
I nodded again, weaker this time. "Yeah… okay. Thanks."
He walked away, joining the other officers, and I finally turned my back, realizing just how cold I was. My flannel shirt, unbuttoned over my favorite band T-shirt, felt heavy and wet, sticking to my skin like soaked paper. The wind sliced through the damp fabric, sending shivers down my spine. I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my dark green pants and took a few shaky steps toward the street. The rain was coming down hard, soaking me completely. After this, I just want a hot shower, knowing Tristan is alright…
Just then, I overheard something—two police officers crouched near a puddle a little further down the alley. Their voices were faint but loud enough to cut through the rain's noise. One of them said, "We've got a trail," and shined his flashlight on something on the ground. "Blood. It's faint, but it's leading northeast!"
The other officer cursed under his breath. "If we don't move now, the rain's gonna wipe it clean. We've only got maybe an hour, tops."
"Call it in. We'll need a forensics team sweeping every inch before it's gone."
I froze. A trail. Leading away. Tristan might've—he might've moved. I hope he just ran away. Though, it could just be the monster… Either way, I turned to follow their gaze, eyes squinting through the rain. I could barely see it, but there—just past a flickering streetlamp—were faint, dark smears.
I clenched my fists. I wanted to run after it, scream his name, do something. But the cops were already moving, cordoning off that section with a couple of cones and waving off anyone who tried to step close.
Still… I knew. Tristan must have gone that way.
I just didn't know if he'd gone on his own… or if something had taken him. And the worst part? Whatever it was—it was smart enough to clean up after itself.
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
Tristan, wherever you are… just hang on. We'll find you!