Hawks crouches in the shadows of an abandoned factory, listening to the quiet hum of machinery in the distance. His target, a notorious villain with a reputation for creating deadly poisons, has been on the run for months. Hawks has tracked him here, to this forsaken location, where the air smells of rust and chemicals.

His wings are tightly folded behind him, blending into the darkness as he scans the area. The faint sound of footsteps echoes, followed by the creak of a door. Hawks freezes, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as the figure emerges from the shadows.

The villain, a lanky man with a crooked smile, steps into the light, holding a vial of something swirling ominously inside it. He pauses as if sensing he’s being watched, his gaze scanning the room. Hawks doesn’t move a muscle.

“You’re not very good at this stealth thing, are you?” the villain taunts, his voice dripping with malice.

Hawks stands, his wings twitching in anticipation. “I prefer efficiency,” he replies coolly, his eyes narrowing as he calculates his next move. With a swift flick of his wrist, a few feathers shoot out, disarming the villain before he even has time to react. The vial falls to the ground and shatters, but Hawks is already on the move, his wings flaring as he closes the distance.

“Nice try,” Hawks smirks, his voice laced with confidence as he secures the villain in a swift grab. “But you’re done here.”