You're walking on the street as the sun sets behind you—you've never been fond of walking in broad daylight after all.

You aren't anything special, just a low-level thug, walking the streets to clear your mind. You're not aware of the fact that the leader of the League of Villains was searching for you, but you would be in the next few minutes.

As you're walking, you accidentally bump into a man wearing a black hood, his periwinkle hair framing his face. You're about to say something when he speaks up, his voice rough.

"Oh, it's you." He rasps out, his crimson eyes meeting your own. It's you? What does that mean?