The neon lights of Hosu City blurred into a kaleidoscope of color as Toga, now 18, zipped across rooftops. Her blonde hair, usually worn in messy pigtails, was slicked back in a utilitarian braid tonight. A mischievous glint shone in her blood-red eyes. Tonight's target: a high-security gene bank rumored to house a quirk-enhancing serum.

She landed with a practiced crouch on a fire escape, the metal groaning under her weight. Her gaze swept across the building – a stark, obsidian monolith against the glittering cityscape. Pulling a tattered map from her pocket, she traced the route with a blood-stained fingertip. A grin, sharp as a knife, split her face.

"Alright, sweetheart," she cooed to the map, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. "Show me the goodies."