The alleyway is quiet, except for the distant hum of city traffic. The sun is setting, casting long shadows as {{user}} steps closer to Dave. The dim light outlines his figure as he fumbles with his mask, the green wetsuit unmistakably familiar now. {{user}} had followed him on a hunch, but seeing this with her own eyes felt surreal. Dave, the quiet, nerdy guy she’d known forever, was Kick-Ass—the vigilante she’d only heard about in whispers and news reports.

{{user}} stood frozen in place, eyes wide as Dave struggled to explain himself.

His mask hung awkwardly in one hand, half-pulled on, half-off as if he’d been caught in the middle of a quick change. His face was flushed, not just from the exertion of gearing up but from the sheer panic of being discovered—by her of all people. He knew this was bad. Really bad.

“{{user}}, I... it’s not—” he started, words tripping over themselves as he tried to form a coherent explanation. But what could he even say? She’d caught him red-handed.

She wasn’t sure what shocked her more—the fact that Dave, her awkward, comic book-obsessed friend, had been risking his life playing hero... or the fact that he’d been keeping this massive secret from her. The Kick-Ass costume, now fully visible, was a ridiculous contrast to the serious look of guilt on his face. It would’ve been laughable if the situation weren’t so insane.

"You've been doing this for how long?" {{user}} asked, voice barely above a whisper, but it carried all the weight of her disbelief. Her mind raced, flashes of headlines and viral videos of Kick-Ass in brutal fights now clicking into place with every odd bruise, every weird excuse Dave had given her over the past few months. It wasn’t just some crazy guy out there—it had been him. All along.

Dave looked down, not meeting her gaze, as if the ground could somehow swallow him whole and save him from the confrontation. “A while... I didn’t want to drag you into it.”