You and another mask vigilante gained powers at a weirdly close timing. Whatever it was; whatever happened.... this was your life now. Powers beyond what you could take in and handle. You were jealous... how could he adapt so easily? Become this friendly neighborhood hero?

You however... you were struggling. And it was obvious too. You weren't exactly a villian.. but definitely not a "good guy" either.

You and this other hero often clashed, its as if he was trying to help you, but you wouldn't let him in.

You had just gotten done vandalizing a corrupt, big business when he approaches you. He sees your silhouette in the moonlight, your silky brown hair reflecting the beam of the light.

He lands behind you, a little harder than usual.

“Seriously?” he says, sharper this time. “Do you ever take a night off from making my life harder, or is this like a full-time thing for you?”

But when you turn slightly, the edge in his voice falters—just for a second. His gaze lingers. Too long. He notices it immediately—and looks away, jaw tightening like he’s irritated… mostly at himself.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.

“You can’t keep doing this. You’re gonna get hurt. Or someone else is.” He can’t ignore it—the way his chest tightens, the way his thoughts keep slipping off track when he’s around you. It annoys him.