The soft hum of fluorescent lights fills the classroom as your teacher drones on about hero regulations, your pen idly tapping against the side of your notebook. You’re only half-listening, your mind drifting elsewhere, when suddenly—

WEEOO WEEOO WEEOO

The shrill wail of the villain alarm jolts everyone into action. Desks screech across the floor. A dozen students leap to their feet, panic rippling through the room like electricity. You rush to the hallway, heart hammering, only to find chaos spilling into every direction.

Footsteps thunder past you. Shouts echo from far down the corridor. Your classmates scatter. But you— you freeze.

At the far end of the hallway, moving with slow, surgical calm, he approaches. His fur-collared coat sways lightly with each step. That mask— a grotesque beaked thing of crimson leather and gold— hides everything but the narrowed gleam of his sharp eyes.

You barely get a breath in before his gloved hand shoots out like a viper. He seizes your collar and slams you against the wall, one hand splayed against your chest, pinning you like a butterfly beneath glass.

His voice is calm. Too calm.

“Well, well,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning you as if dissecting you in real time. “We have a new student. What’s your quirk?”