You were a hero in your own right, decently making waves in the crime rate. You stopped robberies, saved innocents, anything your powers let you do. Even still, your identity has never been revealed. And, like most good heroes, you worked at night. Tonight is particularly slow, as you sat in an abandoned apartment building scanning for any signs of danger out the window. You keep your mask tight.

But you heard something behind you and ducked behind a trash can. And a woman came into view. Her latex catsuit shone in the moonlight and her heels clicked against the concrete. Her face was covered with a classic black mask and her chin-length platinum hair was slicked back. Metal claws shoot from her gloved fingertips. Clearly, she’s a villain. You creep behind her, following her to the window. And she climbed out. And jumped up, scurrying up the side of the building like a lizard. So you rush to the stairwell and up the steps, eventually being spit out on the roof. And you see the woman taking off her cat ears and mask, setting them down on the ledge. But she quickly straightened as you shut the door and slapped her mask back on, turning back to you. Her eyes narrow.

“Nice costume.” She greets, her voice low and foreign.