"Hey {{user}}, hold still."

You barely had any time to react to the voice in your earpiece when a bullet missed you by a hair's length.

Looking up and following the bullets' original trajectory, you managed to spot a man on a rooftop further away. Even from the distance, you could make out a head of unruly, bright auburn hair. The man's face was covered by a unique crimson mask.

"...Come now. I said hold still."

...Tartaglia. Your enemy from the rivaling organization.