Streets of Ravetham

Kaelen woke to the sound of loud banging at the door, each thud pounding through his head. In his groggy state, a dark thought crossed his mind: I've killed for less. He groaned and swung his legs over the side of the bed, muscles stiff and joints popping as he moved. The bloodlust simmered just beneath his skin, a constant, gnawing hunger that made his entire body feel tense. He realized his mistake—he hadn't taken his pills last night.

Without them, the violent urges crept in, whispering to him in the back of his mind. His father had told him the pills were necessary, though Kaelen never really questioned what they were. All he knew was that they worked, and without them, the bloodlust was overwhelming.

Rubbing his eyes, he dragged himself to the bathroom mirror. His reflection was a mess. His white hair stuck out in every direction, bedhead on a whole new level. His violet eyes, still sharp despite the weariness, were underscored by deep, dark circles.

Grabbing the bottle from his nightstand, he popped a few pills into his mouth, the bitter taste quickly dissolving. The effect was immediate, like ice water running through his veins, washing away the murderous thoughts and replacing them with a familiar calm.

The banging continued. Kaelen opened the door to see the motel manager, an older man with thinning hair and a gruff look. His English was broken, but his irritation was clear. "Pay up or check out."

Kaelen sighed and grabbed a crumpled hundred-dollar bill from his backpack, handing it to the man. "I'll be here another day or so."

The manager grunted, stuffed the bill into his pocket, and moved on to knock on other doors. Kaelen glanced at the clock—10:00 AM. Still feeling exhausted, he collapsed back onto the bed and drifted off to sleep.

Two hours later, Kaelen woke up again, this time feeling more refreshed. The cool tiles of the bathroom shocked him awake as he stood in front of the mirror, trying to make himself look presentable. He took a quick shower, the hot water doing wonders for his aching muscles. After drying off, he stood in front of his wardrobe, deciding on an outfit.

He settled on a pair of dark, slim-fit jeans that clung to his legs, a fitted black t-shirt that accentuated his toned torso, and a beaten-up leather jacket that had been through its share of battles. His shoes, scuffed and worn from years of use, were laced up tightly.

It was time to hit the gym.

Kaelen drove to The End Grind, the gym he frequented, nestled in the heart of Ravetham. The gym was a sprawling complex, much more than just a place for lifting weights. It featured a pristine basketball court with gleaming hardwood floors, freshly painted lines, and hoops set at regulation height. Off to the side, the tennis courts were immaculate, the green surface contrasting with the white of the taut nets. The climbing walls rose high against the far wall, their surfaces dotted with colorful handholds designed to test even the most experienced climbers. And finally, the pool—a massive, crystal-clear expanse of water that shimmered under the fluorescent lights.

Kaelen made his way toward the basketball court, hoping to warm up before diving into his routine. As he approached, he noticed a group of players stop mid-game. They stared at him, recognition flickering in their eyes as they pulled out their phones.

One of the players, a tall guy with a friendly grin, jogged over. "Hey, are you the Lost Stray? Man, there's a video of you from last night's fight floating around. You went pretty hard, too bad you lost to that Link Up guy though. Want to join us for a quick game of 21?"

Kaelen, still adjusting to the attention, nodded. "Sure, why not?"

They introduced themselves—John, Darren, Davis, and Brandon. The game started with a quick toss of the ball, and Kaelen found himself slipping into the rhythm of the match. The guys were good, but Kaelen had an edge. His telekinetic abilities, subtle but effective, guided the ball just enough to ensure his shots were on point. He moved with a predator’s grace, his movements calculated but seemingly effortless. He kept his powers under wraps, but they didn't need to know that. By the end, Kaelen had won, though he made sure not to dominate too obviously.

After the match, Kaelen headed to the climbing wall, where he strapped on a harness and began his ascent. The wall was deserted, giving him time to focus. His muscles burned as he climbed higher, his fingers gripping the holds with precision. Every pull, every stretch was deliberate. The higher he went, the more his body responded to the challenge, until he reached the top, breathless but victorious.

With his workout done, Kaelen decided it was time for breakfast. He drove to Always Home, the diner owned by his adoptive mother, Rachel. The place was a cozy, nostalgic spot, with checkered tablecloths and a retro charm that felt warm and inviting. The scent of coffee, bacon, and freshly baked bread filled the air, while old photos and memorabilia adorned the walls, giving the place an intimate, homey feel.

Kaelen parked his Audi and walked in, greeted immediately by Sarah, the diner’s longtime waitress. She was petite, with bright blue eyes and blonde hair tied back into a neat ponytail. Her uniform was classic, complete with a white apron. She spotted him and immediately perked up, pulling out her phone.

"Hey, Kaelen! There's a video of you from last night—taking off your helmet in front of Vex. Does Miss Rachel know you're a cowl now?"

Kaelen sighed, walking past her to sit at the counter. "It is what it is. I'll just have my usual, Sarah. And give me a break, huh? I'm just trying to eat."

Sarah smirked but got to work on his order. His usual was a hearty breakfast: scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, golden hash browns, a stack of fluffy pancakes with maple syrup, and a side of fresh fruit. The finishing touch was a steaming cup of black coffee.

After finishing his meal, Kaelen checked the time—6:00 PM. He still had a few hours before his shift, so he decided to give Valerian Drakov a call. Pulling out the card the necromancer had given him, Kaelen dialed the number.

After a few rings, a voice answered, thick with a drowsy accent. "Hello?"

"This is Lost Stray from last night's fight club. Your goon said you might have some work for me. Just checking in to see if that offer's still on the table."

There was a chuckle on the other end. "Ah, not just work. An offer as well. Care to meet me now?"

Kaelen, curious, nodded to himself. "Sure, tell me where to go."

Valerian’s voice perked up. "Excellent. Come to my mansion in the Ravenwood District. We’ll discuss the details in person."

Kaelen hung up, plugged the address into his GPS, and headed out, ready to see what Valerian Drakov had in store.