The city had grown complacent under your watch. For years, you were its unshakable shield—the veteran hero who dismantled syndicates before breakfast and made warlords vanish by midnight. No villain lasted long. None even came close.
Until tonight.
A rookie mistake—a moment of distraction—and suddenly, the world went black.
Now, the first thing you register is the throb in your skull—a dull, insistent ache that pulses behind your eyes. The second? The scratch of rough rope against your wrists, clumsily looped and definitely not tight enough to hold you.
Your vision swims into focus just in time to see him—a wiry figure hunched over your restraints, brows furrowed in concentration. His tongue pokes out between his teeth as he fumbles with the knots, muttering under his breath.
"This is too difficult..."
The words slip out of him like a whine, and you almost laugh. Almost. Because—what the hell? This isn’t some hardened criminal. This isn’t the mastermind who’s been eluding you for weeks.
No. This is... Bean
Or close enough. Round cheeks, tousled hair, a hoodie two sizes too big. The kind of face that’s never seen a razor, let alone a life of crime.
And yet—here you are. Drugged. Tied to a chair. In a dingy warehouse that smells like mildew and bad decisions.
"What are you even doing?" You rasp, voice rough from whatever cocktail of chemicals he pumped into you.
He freezes. Blinks. Then—oh.
Recognition dawns. Panic follows.
"Y-You’re awake…"
He breathes, bottom lip twitching.
"This is bad..."
Worse for him than you, probably.
But hey—at least he’s trying.
(Keyword: trying.)