The City That Never Sleeps

It is the middle of the night as White Apparition flies over the city that never sleeps...he looks down at the city below.
 
"They move about, oblivious to the world beyond their senses. Living, breathing, feeling... so fragile. Each one of them is a spark of life, burning brightly but destined to fade, and they live with that knowledge buried deep in their subconscious, driving them to love, to fear, to fight for every moment. I used to be like them, connected to that relentless pulse of life, tethered by the same threads of emotion, of mortality. But now... now, I'm something else entirely. A wraith, a ghostly reminder of what was. The vulnerability that once defined me, that made me human, is gone, replaced by this strange existence between worlds. I still walk among them, still fight for them, but there's a distance—a growing chasm between what I was and what I am now. I wonder, do they even realize how close they are to the edge, how easily their light can be extinguished? And yet, here I am, suspended between their world and the void, a silent guardian who can never truly share in their experiences again."
 
His attention is caught by flashing of emergency lights, blue and red, at 117th Street...just over there. He swoops down to get a closer look.
 
"The scene below is becoming clearer as I approach. The flash of muzzle fire, the shouts of orders and panic, the smell of gunpowder and fear. This was my world once, a world of adrenaline and danger, where every move could be your last. But now, I’m just an observer, hovering above the chaos, untouched by it. I see the gang, their leader barking commands, his face twisted in desperation. They’re cornered, and they know it, but they won’t go down without a fight. The police are hunkered down, trying to hold the line, but they’re outgunned. This is where I come in. I assess the situation, looking for weaknesses, for openings. The gang is focused on the cops, too busy trying to blast their way out to notice the shadow descending on them. I remember what it was like to feel fear, to feel the rush of a firefight, but now... now, is it just another task I perform? Another moment where I do what needs to be done? Not because I’m afraid, or because I care, but because it’s all that’s left of who I was?"
 
"As I make my move, phasing through the walls to get closer to the gang, the question gnaws at me: Can I still call myself human? I used to share their fears, their joys, the thrill of being alive. But now, those emotions are fading, slipping away with every ghostly breath I take. I still fight for them, for the people in the streets, for the cops who are risking their lives, but the connection... it’s not the same, is it? Am I just a ghost clinging to a life that’s no longer mine, fighting for a world that I’m slowly drifting away from? I reach the gang leader, and without a sound, I reach out toward him, freezing his body with the cold grip of death. His eyes widen in terror as he realizes something’s wrong, but it’s too late. The fight drains out of him, and he collapses, unconscious. The rest of the gang panics, disoriented, and the SWAT team takes advantage, moving in to finish the job. I watch, detached, as the situation resolves itself, the mission complete. But the question lingers: How much longer can I hold on before I’m just a phantom with no purpose, a protector with no connection to the life I once knew? For now, I continue, because it’s all I have left."