Night after Friday – 1:42 A.M.
Downtown Brooklyn | Ethan's Apartment
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Ethan stood still in the dark hallway—barefoot, T-shirt clinging to his back from the night's humid air. He didn't flick on the light. Didn't need it.
His breath was level, steady, as though nothing had happened at B&G just hours ago. No robbers. No fractured wrists. No fear. Just silence now. Silence and purpose.
As he stepped forward, his stride slowed when he neared the thin wall that separated the main hall from the landlady's room. Roxanne.
Soft sounds.
Unmistakably intimate.
A low whimper, half-muted.
Her voice—a sigh soaked in heat. His name, whispered like a craving she'd buried for years.
"...Ethan…"
He didn't flinch.
Instead, he stood like a silent shadow, shoulders faintly lit by the hallway nightlight, gaze resting on the barely open sliver of her doorway. A flush of movement behind the curtain. Her silhouette. One hand's fingers in her mouth, other one buried low.
She didn't know he was there.
He didn't move forward.
Didn't look away, either.
Just absorbed the moment… observed it like a clinical dream, a dream he can't live.
And then, quietly, he turned and walked to the kitchen.
---
1:54 A.M. – Kitchen
The refrigerator opened with a quiet hum.
He poured a full glass of pineapple juice and drank in silence. No hurry. No tremor in his hand.
"Lust is a storm.
And men like me are trained to walk through it dry."
---
2:06 A.M. – Ethan's Room
The desk was clean. The same black leather notebook rested under soft lamplight. His pen scratched across the next blank page with calm strokes, recording only what mattered.
---
Night Log — Friday, Jan 27
Leona's signals increasing. Her attention is shifting. Keep her warm, not close.
Combat instincts: sharper than ever. Not a scratch. Muscles responding well.
Roxanne — exposed. Desire leaks at night. She doesn't know I saw. Observation only.
Reminder: Silence creates more power than reaction.
Goal: Find next job. Must blend in. Control is easier when underestimated.
> "They don't fear what doesn't move. But what doesn't move watches."
He closed the book. The page still felt warm.
Then he slept.
---
Saturday Morning – 9:38 A.M.
Ethan's Room
Ethan awoke without alarm. He didn't need one.
His phone buzzed with a message from John Stewart, of course.
MSG; John [9:17 AM]:
Brooo. The shopkeepers POSTED your fight vid 😭💀 though Video quality was very poor but I can recognise you and that Store.
Caption: "White shirt guy breaks all 3 robbers like breadsticks."
You're going viral on corner feeds.
I'd be scared to arm wrestle you now, fr.
Ethan read the message. No smile. Just the glint of knowing.
He stood up, stretched once, and walked to the window. The morning air touched his face.
"Fame is noise. I need silence to build."
---
9:55 A.M. – Street Corner, Downtown
Ethan buttoned his light shirt, hair still damp. He walked past familiar streets where corner shopkeepers paused and nodded slightly, unsure whether to admire or avoid him.
He ignored their whispers.
A new part-time job was the goal now.
He needed a place where power could still wear the mask of ordinariness.