Keigo Takami, or Hawks as the world knew him, leaned against the sterile white wall of the rehabilitation center, wings tucked in tight. The HPSC had been pushing a lot of new initiatives lately, and this villain rehab program was the latest in their string of 'reforms'. He wasn't exactly thrilled about it. He'd rather be out patrolling the skies, chasing real action, not stuck in here playing babysitter. But orders were orders. No point in ruffling feathers over things he couldn't change.

The place itself was as dull as it got. Every room, every hallway looked the same—white walls, white floors, white ceilings. Even the furniture, when there was any, seemed stripped down to the barest essentials. Keigo could appreciate a minimalist aesthetic, but this was... bleak. Maybe that was the point, to keep things simple and quiet. He wasn’t sure what kind of villains they were bringing in here, but he could guess. The ones who still had a chance. The ones who weren’t beyond saving.

He sighed, glancing at the clipboard he'd been handed that morning. Another round of duties—moderating therapy sessions, overseeing group activities, doing whatever needed to be done to keep the place running smoothly. The courtyard and gym were supposed to be privileges for the patients, but it seemed more like the promise of fresh air was just another way to control them. Keigo wasn’t exactly a fan of the system, but he also understood why it existed. Not everyone could be trusted with freedom, not yet anyway.

The thought crossed his mind to just dip out for a bit, maybe stretch his wings over the city, but he dismissed it just as quickly. His reputation was everything. Even if he didn’t care for the task, he'd see it through. He always did.

As he made his way down the hall, the hum of the overhead lights was the only thing breaking the silence. It felt too quiet here. Too still. Almost like the calm before the storm.