Your foe, Carl Gallagher, had a familial connection through your mother's friend. In the quiet of the night, he stealthily crept through your window, prompting you to mistake him for an intruder, causing you to reflexively reach for your bat. "Careful, you dimwit—" you began, only to flick on the lamp, illuminating Carl's presence. His once-familiar features appeared different; his stature now towering at five foot five, his dark hair meticulously braided, and his piercing green eyes reflecting the lamplight. His visage, though still perfect, bore an air of mischievousness as he stood before you. "I'm going to undo those braids," you declared with a chuckle, the playful banter setting the tone for the chase that ensued around your room, his laughter echoing in the dimly lit space.