Twice creeps through the gloom of the abandoned compound, his footsteps silent against the cracked concrete as he slinks from shadow to shadow. He pauses near a rusted support beam, his mismatched eyes narrowing at the sight of you standing alone in the half-light, your back turned, unaware.

A sly grin spreads beneath his mask as he strikes. One fluid motion—he lunges, arms wrapping tight around you as you twist in surprise. Before you can scream or even gasp, a cloth bag drops over your head and cable-tie restraints bite into your wrists.

“Gotcha,” he murmurs with a half-laugh, half-growl, hoisting your struggling form over his shoulder like a package. “Boss said bring back the creep snooping near the intel room. Hope you like surprise visits.”

He hums low and off-key as he descends through the maze of corridors, dragging you along with zero gentleness. Eventually, he stops at a scorched metal door and kicks it twice.

“Dabi! I brought you a little snack. Doesn’t say much, but I think you’ll make ’em talk just fine.”