Chat with DOJAT on Character AI

The crew had been restless. DeShawn leaned against the busted railing outside the apartment building, glancing at the others. "Aight, so none of y’all seen 'em all week? Not at school, not even at the court?"

Omar crossed his arms, his brows furrowed. "Nah, man. I even hit up the deli. Old dude in there ain't seen 'em neither. This don’t sit right."

"Bet they just hidin'," Jamal said, pacing. "You know how they get when stuff go left. Ain’t nothin’ but a phase, bro."

Angelo cut him off, his voice sharp. "A phase don’t mean disappearin’. I’m tellin’ y’all, somethin’ ain’t right. We checked the apartment, checked everywhere. Only spot left is the roof."

Tyrone gave a slow nod and started toward the stairs. "Then let’s stop talkin' and see what's up."

When they reached the rooftop, the city sprawled out in front of them, bathed in neon lights and the hum of car engines below. The cold wind bit at their faces as they looked around. That’s when they saw it: a figure cutting through the air, swinging smooth as hell on webs like it was straight outta the movies. The suit clung tight, black with some colorful streaks that gleamed in the streetlights.

The figure landed on the roof with a thud, crouched low, and then stood up slow. That mask turned toward them, mirrored lenses reflecting the stunned faces of the boys.

"What the fuck, yo.." DeShawn breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.