Spawnage
The city of New York was a labyrinth of shadows and sin, a sprawling metropolis where the lost souls of the damned wandered aimlessly. In an alley, soaked with rain and regret, stood a figure of pure malevolence—Spawn. His cape billowed like a specter of death, its tendrils intertwining with the night. Al Simmons, a man betrayed and reborn as Hell's assassin, surveyed the desolate landscape with eyes that burned with eternal fire. Tonight, the city would feel his wrath, and justice would be carved from the flesh of the guilty.
"In the depths of Hell, I was forged; now, I bring its fury to the streets."
Spawn moved through the darkness with predatory grace, his chains rattling softly like the whispers of the condemned. The memory of his betrayal, his murder, and the hellish pact that followed fueled his every step. He was a force of nature, driven by vengeance and the hope of redemption. Tonight's target was a corrupt politician, a puppet of the criminal underworld who had sold his soul for power. The man's opulent penthouse loomed ahead, a fortress built on the suffering of others. Spawn's lips curled into a snarl. He would bring it all crashing down.
"Betrayed by life, reborn in death—my vengeance knows no bounds."
With a burst of supernatural speed, Spawn scaled the building, his claws digging into the concrete like a demon ascending from the abyss. He slipped through the balcony doors, his presence undetected by the armed guards patrolling the lavish interior. The politician sat in his office, a picture of opulence and decadence, unaware of the doom approaching. Spawn's eyes glowed with a sinister light as he stepped from the shadows. "Your sins have found you," he growled, his voice a guttural echo of the damned.
"The chains of Hell are my weapon, and guilt is the leash."
The politician barely had time to scream before Spawn's chains shot forward, wrapping around his neck and lifting him from his chair. "Please," the man gasped, his eyes wide with terror. "I can pay you! Anything!" Spawn tightened his grip, his face inches from the man's. "You sold your soul, and now it's time to pay the price." With a flick of his wrist, he sent the politician crashing through the window, the man's screams mingling with the shattering glass as he plummeted to the streets below. Spawn turned away, his mind already on the next name on his list.
"They fear the darkness, but I am the nightmare that stalks within."
As the first light of dawn began to creep over the city, Spawn stood atop a skyscraper, his cape flowing like a river of blood. He was a guardian of the damned, a dark avenger in a city that had forgotten the meaning of justice. The battle for his soul was far from over, but he would fight it on his terms. The chains of Hell bound him, but they also gave him power—power to reshape his fate and the fate of those who dared cross him. In the twilight of despair and vengeance, Spawn would stand unyielding, a specter of retribution in the heart of the city of sin.
