[POV: Third-Person]

The dormitory was silent, with only the soft sound of breathing filling the air. Piper and Rowe lay in their beds, separated by a small cabinet between them. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting faint shadows across the room. Rowe shifted under her blanket, her eyes snapping open as she cautiously glanced over at Piper's bed.

"Piper?" she whispered, her voice barely a breath. No response. Piper was still fast asleep, her figure motionless under the covers.

Rowe let out a quiet sigh of relief, her heart easing its rapid beat. She pushed the blanket off and slid out of bed, careful not to make any noise. Time to go, she thought, moving swiftly but silently to the dresser. With practiced hands, she pulled on a pair of dark clothes, blending into the dim light of the room.

Crouching down, she reached under her bed, fingers brushing against cold metal. She pulled out a red bat—its surface scuffed and worn, but sturdy. The weight felt familiar, comforting even. Rowe stood up, gripping it tightly as she tiptoed toward the door, avoiding the spot where she'd tripped the last time she snuck out.

Not tonight, she thought, smirking to herself as she eased the door open just enough to slip through. Once outside, the night air hit her, cool and crisp. She made sure to shut the door as quietly as possible before hurrying down the stairs.

Her motorbike stood a few feet away, glinting under the dim light of the nearby streetlamp. Rowe approached it cautiously, her boots barely making a sound against the gravel as she wheeled it farther down the road. I'm not waking Piper again, she muttered to herself, remembering the last time her bike's engine had rumbled too close to the dorm.

When she was sure she was far enough, Rowe slid on her driving helmet. "This should be good enough," she whispered, swinging a leg over the bike. The engine purred to life, and with a quick twist of the throttle, she sped off into the night, disappearing down the empty street.

Back in the dormitory, a figure stirred. Piper's eyes opened slowly, a frown creasing her forehead as she turned her head toward the window. Through the thin curtains, she caught a glimpse of Rowe riding away, the bike's red taillights fading into the distance.

"What are you up to, Rowe..." Piper whispered to herself, her expression heavy with concern as she watched her friend vanish into the night, uncertainty gnawing at her.

With a sigh, Piper rolled back over, her mind racing as she stared up at the ceiling, a knot of worry settling in her chest.

The streets of Havendale were empty, the only sound was the soft purr of a motorbike engine cutting through the silence. Rowe's helmeted head scanned the dimly lit alleyways, her eyes sharp behind the visor. She wasn't just out for a drive—she was hunting.

Suddenly, she came to a stop, her tires screeching as she caught sight of movement in a narrow alley. She killed the engine and swung her leg over the bike, gripping her red bat tightly as she approached.

In the alley, a rough-looking man was pinning a woman down, his sneer illuminated by the dim glow of a streetlamp. "Stop squirming, you're only making this harder," he growled, his breath hot and foul as it hit the woman's face. Several other men stood around, leering, waiting their turn.

"I'm next," one of them said, almost drooling in anticipation.

"P-please! Someone help me!" the woman cried out, her voice breaking, but it was the dead of night. No one would hear her. No one but Rowe.

"Shut up! You're only makin' it worse for yourself," one of the men sneered, but before he could finish, a loud CRACK echoed through the alley.

The man staggered back, his jaw hanging at an unnatural angle. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he collapsed like a ragdoll, his body limp and lifeless on the cold ground.

"W-what the hell?!" one of the others yelled, panic flooding his voice. Standing where their friend had been was a girl, cloaked in a leather jacket and a helmet. Her bat gleamed with fresh blood, still dripping from its impact.

"A vigilante? Now? Just our f*ckin' luck!" the leader spat, his voice quaking as he yanked a knife from his belt. "She's just a girl, and there's three of us! We'll gut the b*tch!"

Rowe didn't say a word. She moved like a shadow, faster than they could track. In the blink of an eye, the sound of splintering bone filled the alley as her bat connected with a thug's kneecap. His scream echoed through the night as he crumpled, clutching his shattered leg, the jagged bone piercing through his skin.

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Another man lunged at her with a knife, the blade slicing through the air, but Rowe dodged with inhuman speed. The blade grazed her shoulder, leaving only a shallow cut. Before the attacker could even process his miss, she spun on her heel, using the force to drive her bat into his wrist with bone-crushing precision.

CRACK.

His hand exploded into a mangled mess, the knife falling uselessly to the ground as he howled in agony, clutching his ruined limb.

"F*ck this! I'm out! Momma was right! I shoulda left this gang sooner!" the last man screamed, terror overriding any loyalty he had to his crew. He bolted down the alley, his footsteps growing distant as he abandoned the others.

But Rowe wasn't done. With one swift motion, she brought her bat down on the spine of the man who had slashed her, the sound of vertebrae snapping like twigs beneath the force of her blow. His body convulsed, then went still.

Breathing heavily, Rowe turned toward the woman, who was still trembling on the ground. "Are you hurt? Did they get to you?" she asked, her voice muffled by the helmet. There was no softness in her tone, only a cold, detached calm.

"N-no… I'm okay. Thank you… thank you," the woman stammered, eyeing the carnage around her, too terrified to fully process the brutality she had just witnessed.

"Call the police," Rowe said, tossing the woman's purse toward her. "Tell them what happened." As the woman scrambled for her phone, Rowe turned her back, ready to leave. "They won't be walking anytime soon, so you shou—"

BANG!

The sound of the gunshot was deafening, reverberating through the alley as blood splattered across the walls. Rowe's body jerked forward, her helmet cracking as the bullet tore through it. She crumpled to the ground, a pool of blood spreading beneath her.

"I… I got you… You b*tch… I got you…" The man with the broken leg grinned through his pain, clutching a smoking revolver with shaky hands.

But his grin faltered as he saw something that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Rowe's body twitched. Slowly, the blood that had sprayed out from her skull began to move—unnaturally, impossibly—crawling back toward her head. Bits of bone and brain matter slithered like worms, piecing themselves back together in a grotesque display of reverse destruction.

The man's stomach churned as he watched the girl stand up, her head reforming, her blood-soaked helmet eerily intact. His hands trembled, and he stumbled back, bile rising in his throat.

"You…" Rowe's voice was low, her words dripping with malice. In a blur, she moved toward him, and before he could react, her foot slammed into his ribcage with a sickening CRACK. The force sent him flying, his body hitting the alley wall with a bone-rattling thud.

The woman watched in stunned horror, her phone forgotten in her hand as sirens wailed in the distance. Rowe turned toward her one last time, her voice cold and steady. "Take care of yourself."

Without another word, she was gone, her motorbike roaring to life as she sped off into the night, leaving behind a scene that would be burned into the woman's memory forever.

It was nearly three in the morning when Rowe finally returned to the dormitory. The streets had been eerily quiet on her ride back, the cold wind biting at her as she weaved through the empty roads. She parked her bike in its usual spot, taking off her helmet as she headed inside.

Her footsteps were soft, almost calculated, as she ascended the creaky staircase. Despite the violent encounter earlier, not a single drop of blood stained her clothes—though she had been drenched in her own just an hour ago. Her power had seen to that, the grotesque reformation of her body leaving no trace of the wounds she had suffered.

CREAK.

The door to their room opened slowly, Rowe slipping inside like a shadow. She quietly began changing into her pajamas, her mind still racing with the memory of the alley and the horrified look in that man's eyes as she stood up from the dead. It wasn't something you could just shake off, but Rowe had long since gotten used to it.

"Wanna have some tea? You must be exhausted."

Rowe froze mid-motion, her shirt halfway over her head. She turned slowly to find Piper sitting at the small table, a delicate teacup in hand, steam curling lazily from it. Piper's eyes were calm, almost amused, but there was something unreadable behind them.

"Sure... Wait!" Rowe suddenly dropped the shirt. "Piper?! Why are you awake?" Panic flashed in her eyes as she scrambled to make sense of the situation. She had been so careful, so quiet, how could Piper—

"I should be the one asking you that." Piper's voice was measured, a slight tilt to her lips as she set the teacup down with a soft clink. "Coming in at three in the morning? Who do you think you're fooling, Rowe?"

Rowe blinked, completely dumbfounded. Her heart raced, but not from the earlier violence—it was from Piper's steady gaze. It felt like being caught red-handed, though Piper had no idea what she'd actually been up to.

"Tell me," Piper said, leaning forward slightly, her finger lifting to point directly at Rowe. "Who have you been sneaking off to meet?"

The accusation hung in the air like a blade ready to drop. Rowe stared at her, her face a mix of confusion and disbelief. A part of her wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it—after all, Piper thought she was sneaking out for some secret rendezvous when, in reality, she had been smashing criminals' bones in dark alleyways.

But another part of Rowe wasn't sure how to react. The intensity in Piper's eyes made it clear that this wasn't just a casual question. It felt like a test, like Piper had been waiting for the right moment to confront her. The air in the room felt heavier, the comfortable silence they usually shared now thick with tension.

Rowe scratched the back of her head awkwardly, her eyes darting between Piper and the door as if she was considering making a run for it. "Uh... I-I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, trying to play it off, though the heat rising in her cheeks betrayed her.

Piper's gaze narrowed. She didn't seem convinced.