The stench of blood lingered at the tip of his nose, followed by the chill seeping through his skin. He could feel the rain washing over him, repeatedly cleansing him, washing away the blood and stealing warmth.
Night Owl disliked such scenarios; to be precise, he disliked fighting in stormy weather because it always reminded him of that terrifying day.
It was on such a day, facing the same Demons, that Night Owl remembers nearly dying there, the endless despair leaving only mortals to struggle.
Since then, he lay in the hospital for quite a while, leaving him with some psychological shadows, and now, in this shitty moment, he encountered these shitty events.
"Ah... really wish I could just lie down forever..."
Night Owl's consciousness was somewhat hazy, expressing a hopeful sentiment.
