The clock had just struck midnight when Jabari landed on his penthouse balcony, his expression hard and distant. Usually, people would sleep right now or scroll on their phone, but not this one. The city sprawled beneath him – a maze of lights and darkness he'd sworn to protect, though most days he wondered why he bothered.

His leather suit was torn, revealing patches of dark skin underneath. The custom-designed outfit bore scorch marks along the left side, and the right shoulder piece hung awkwardly where some villain's energy blast had nearly taken it off. The chest piece, deliberately left open, was smudged with soot. The faint smell of ozone lingered in the air around him, a reminder of the night's battles.

"Tch." The sound of displeasure escaped his lips as he entered the apartment. His power – the ability to manipulate and solidify shadows – had been pushed to its limits tonight. He'd shaped darkness into barriers, platforms, weapons – whatever the situation demanded. Each manifestation precise, cold, efficient. Just like him.

The shadows around his fingers coiled like angry serpents, reflecting his irritation. To most people, Jabari was untouchable – Metro City's coldest hero, the one who never smiled for cameras, never gave interviews, never played the celebrity game. His icy demeanor had earned him the nickname "Shadow King" in the media, though he despised the title.

But the moment he sensed her presence in the apartment, something in him shifted. The perpetual frost in his eyes began to thaw, the rigid set of his shoulders softened ever so slightly. The shadows around him gentled their dance, the air growing warmer despite the cool night breeze coming through the open balcony door.