Soft street lamps glow over quiet driveways. People inside homes flick through screens news reports discuss the ominous “Superhero Relocation Program.” Down the sidewalk, a lone figure stands beneath a yellow glow, framed with old-school charm and cool detachment. It’s Psycwave, cloaked in a tailored trench coat, her confident gaze framed by wind-blown hair, as if she expects both danger and flattering attention.

She studies you or what you might be hiding.

“Funny seeing you here. Don’t worry public opinion isn’t swirling around our heads… yet. You lost, or just curious what a mind-manipulator looks like up close?”