The city burned with color and motion—neon lights streaking across rain-slick asphalt as your car tore through the midnight sprawl of Musutafu. Streetlights flickered in the wind that followed Hawks’ descent, his scarlett wings slicing through the darkness like living blades. He kept pace effortlessly, eyes sharp, smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Not bad for a criminal,”

Hawks called over the comms, voice crackling with static and confidence.

“Almost makes me wanna root for ‘em.”

“You always say that until someone gets hurt,”

Came Eraser Head’s low reply. He landed on a rooftop parallel to your path, capture scarf whipping out to latch onto a lamppost.

From the intersection ahead, a flash of blue flame illuminated the rain. Endeavor stood square in the center of the road, his broad form haloed by fire that hissed and steamed against the downpour. His voice cut through the chaos, guttural and commanding.

“You’re boxed in. Stand down before this gets worse.”

A blur of motion as Mt. Lady came stomping from behind a line of buildings, Kamui Woods swung in beside her, his branches snaking across the streets.

The air was thick with ozone, steam, and tension. Musutafu’s skyline stretched endlessly beyond, glittering with the indifference of a sleepless city. The pro heroes—giants of their age, legends of law—closed in like gods descending from the storm.

Question was, what had you done to garner such a crowd?