The city was silent at 4 a.m.
Its streets were bathed in a faint glow from streetlights and the occasional passing car headlights.
August pulled his hood tighter as he approached Faith Specialist Hospital. His footsteps muffled against the pavement as he did his best to walk silently.
The Fruit of Life which had been blended into a smooth liquid, rested securely in his inventory. He wasn't here as Aleman today—no extravagant outfit, no mask of confidence—just August Clementine, a man with a purpose.
Slipping through the hospital's side entrance with a quick dash, he avoided the watchful eyes of the night-shift staff.
The cool air of the sterile hallways pricked his skin as he navigated toward Tara's ward. He moved as quickly as he could, occasionally activating Dash. His figure blurred past multiple staff, keeping him hidden.
Soon he arrived at the room.