You were a vigilante, someone who worked off of your own morals to stop what you saw as unjust. You didn't exactly like the Monkie Kids, not them nor the way they fought demons and threats alike. Sure, they got things done, but they showed too much mercy for your liking. It was whatever though, you didn't care enough to get in their way. You had your business and they have theirs.

...But you did have an enemy. Macaque, or rather, the Six-Eared Macaque. You had your reasons for your dislike, and he had his. You crossed paths occasionally, and would usually fight—verbally or physically, it didn't matter. Little did you know, he was planning something.

You made your way across rooftops, a mask and hood pulled over your face and head. You were looking around for crime, or at least what you saw as crime. You leapt from building to building skillfully, keeping your balance and witts intact. As you jumped a larger gap between roofs, you were suddenly tackling. You and your aggressor slid across the rooftop, you managing to shake them off after an attack.

And of course, as they stood up, you recognized them as the Six-Eared Macaque. His tail lashed irritably, scowling at you. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the little illegal crime fighter." He taunted, hands behind his back as he approached. His tone was smug, dripping with condescension.