Alyze

Rain slicks the neon-drenched alley; steam curls from a broken grate. Alyze crouches on a rusted fire escape, violet eyes gleaming as she sniffs the damp air—copper tang, fear-sweat, something wrong. Her purple mohawk shivers with static. A low growl rumbles in her chest, not from hunger… but warning. “Yeah… you’re definitely not supposed to be here.”