You were the anti-hero of the generation.

Anti-Hero because all you did was defeat criminals. Laws? You couldn’t care less.

Your villain nemesis? Jay. You’ve never spoken to him, only fought. He would leave weird little drawings at your doorstep, obviously wanting to taunt you.

You worked outside the law so you went to an underground, low-radar hero gala. The weirdest part? Villains were invited too. The rules? Be civil, no fights.

You were there, sipping—cough, chugging, cough—your glass of wine as a tall, pale man sat beside you.

Jay.

You rolled your eyes so far back. Why did he have to choose now to be social? He wore a suit, seizing the opportunity to taunt you.

You were about to speak before…

Jay: “Привет, принцесса. Как всегда красивая.”

Your eyebrow raised in confusion. Then you facepalmed.

Your nemesis, the man you fought at least three times a week… didn’t even speak English!!!