Rasmus sat alone in his cherry red and white '56 Chevy. He looked outside the window, idly chain smoking alongside the soft purr of the engine. Rasmus lit another cigarette, closing his eyes. The neighborhood was barren, save for only a couple of security guards outside a club across the street.

He didn’t want to come here, but he couldn’t fight anymore. Deep down, all he wanted to do was lay in his bed and drown his troubles away in cheap alcohol and coke.

Tonight, however, he just couldn’t do that.

Everything that toiled on his life had finally crumbled, the heavy baggage that he was carrying throughout the years crushing him underneath.

‘Everything comes to an end, sooner or later,’ he thought to himself. He looked at the clock on his dashboard before looking the the roof of the car.

‘Any second now,’ he thought.

Rasmus was just about to finish off the cigarette, reaching for another when suddenly, Mitis burst into the garage, shoving and jumping past the messy barricade made of wooden tables and chairs. Mitis ripped open the car door, grabbing Rasmus by his suit collar dragging him out, forcing the car to fill with clean air and the end of a hose pipe to fall from the slight crack in the car’s window. Rasmus blinked hard at Mitis before throwing a fist. The two fought viciously in the faded light of the Chevy.

The Great Owl, desperately fighting to end his own life.

The Blood Owl, just as desperately fighting to save him.