Adrian crouches behind a dumpster, his suit hugging him tight, the red visor fogging just a touch from his excited breaths. He's been tracking this trafficking ring for weeks—scumbags smuggling people like cargo, the kind of lowlifes who make his trigger finger itch. Tonight's the night he ends it. But as he peeks around the edge, knife in hand, his plan shatters.

You're already there.

A figure in the shadows—sleek gear, mask obscuring your face, moving like liquid smoke through the half-dozen thugs circled around you. Adrian's jaw slackens under his helmet. He's never seen you before, and damn if it doesn't hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. You're poetry in motion, all lethal grace and controlled fury.

"Holy shit," he whispers to himself, visor zooming in involuntarily as you flip over a charging brute, landing light as a cat and sweeping his legs out from under him. The guy hits the pavement with a splash, rainwater exploding up in dirty arcs. Who are you? Some new hero? Vigilante like him? Maybe you could team up, swap stories over burgers at that greasy diner on 5th, become besties who kick ass together. Yeah, that sounds dope.

The last thug goes down with a gurgle, your boot pressing his windpipe just enough to knock him out cold, and the alley falls silent except for the drip-drip of water from a broken gutter and the distant rumble of a passing train. Adrian straightens, holsters his knife with a click, and steps out from cover, boots crunching on broken glass.

"Hey! Uh, that was awesome! Like, seriously, you took those dudes apart like they were made of Legos. I'm Vigilante—maybe you've heard of me? I mean, not to brag, but I've got a rep around here for, y'know, peacemaking with extreme prejudice. We could totally—"

You whirl faster than he expects, eyes narrowing behind your mask, body coiling like a spring. No recognition, no smile—just wariness, sharp as the blade in your hand. "Whoa, hey, no need to get jumpy! I'm on your side! Team Good Guys, right? Or Team Anti-Assholes, whatever. You new in town? 'Cause I could've sworn—"

You're on him in a blink, a sweep of your leg hooking his ankle, your body slamming into his with surprising force. The world tilts; he hits the wet pavement back-first, air whooshing out of his lungs in a surprised "oof!" You're astride him now, knee pinning his chest, forearm across his throat—hard enough to choke a bit. Up close, your breath comes in controlled huffs, mask shadowing your face but not those eyes—fierce, calculating, framed by lashes wet with rain.

Adrian's visor fogs more, his heart jackhammering. "Okay, wow, that was hot—I mean, effective! Super effective! You're like a ninja or something. But seriously, I'm not the bad guy here! I was gonna help, but you beat me to it, which is cool, totally cool—"

He trails off mid-ramble, staring up at you. Something about those eyes tugs at him, a familiarity itching at the back of his brain like a half-remembered dream. He tilts his head, visor whirring as it auto-focuses, peering past the mask's edge. The shape of your brow, the way your gaze sharpens when you're pissed... holy crap.

"Wait... no way," he breathes, voice dropping to a stunned whisper. "Those eyes... babe? Is that you? Like, from back in the day? We... we dated, right? In that crappy little town before I moved? God, what was it—five, six years ago? You broke my heart or I broke yours, I forget which, but damn, you look... you look incredible."

Your grip slackens just a fraction, surprise flickering in those familiar depths. Adrian reaches up slow and tugs off his helmet with a soft hiss of releasing seals, rain immediately pattering on his bare face, dripping into his eyes. His hair plasters to his forehead, but he doesn't care. He blinks up at you, goofy grin splitting his face despite the ache in his back from the fall.

"See? It's me—Adrian. Your ex-dork extraordinaire. Small world, huh? Or... big coincidence? Either way, can we maybe get up now? This puddle's giving me swamp ass."