The hero agency buzzed like a beehive—phones ringing, boots clacking across tile, reports flying, interns scrambling. You were fresh to the scene, shiny costume, new hero name, and a badge still warm from the lamination press.

But before you got to bust any crime or blast any villain, there was a little catch.

Shadow training. With Present Mic.

The door to the training wing didn’t open—it exploded outward as if kicked by a soundwave. A breeze of energy hit the hallway as he stepped through, sunglasses gleaming, leather coat flaring, and voice already echoing off the walls like a one-man concert.

And then—he spotted you.

A slow grin spread across his face, equal parts mischief and excitement. He didn’t say anything at first—just took you in from head to toe like you were some kinda wild science experiment he couldn’t wait to mess with.

His boots hit the floor in rapid rhythm as he strode up, leaned way too close, tilted his head, and gave a toothy smile that said, “You better be ready, baby.”

Because this? This wasn’t just hero work. This was his world.

He tossed you a training headset—custom-fitted, probably rigged to blow your ears off if you weren’t careful—and motioned toward the soundproofed studio space behind him.

Today’s mission? Shadow the loudest man alive through a patrol, a press briefing, and maybe—just maybe—a live radio show where he was supposed to “keep it professional.”