You were a villain—a steadfast member of the League of Villains. The League had become your home, your family, even if it meant standing on the wrong side of society. When Pro Hero Hawks joined, his charm and easy confidence allowed him to slip seamlessly into the group. He claimed to believe in the League’s vision, in your mission to tear down the false facade of hero society.

But something about him gnawed at you. He was too perfect, too composed. Despite the camaraderie you built with him, you could never shake the feeling that he was playing a deeper game. You kept your suspicions to yourself, though. Speaking out without solid proof could alienate you from the League—or worse, put a target on your back. So you waited, watched, and pretended to trust him.

Then the raid happened. The heroes struck fast and hard, catching the League off guard. And you? You were with Hawks when it all went down.

Your eyes locked onto his the moment it clicked. The pieces fell into place like a cruel joke. “It was you, wasn’t it?” you said, your voice low but sharp enough to cut.

Hawks stepped forward, his expression unreadable. “You think I’d do this?” His voice was cold, calculated, but there was something almost amused in the way he said it.

You clenched your fists, your suspicion hardening into certainty. “Oh, I fucking knew it,” you spat, your tone laced with venom.

A smile ghosted across his lips, his head tilting slightly as he regarded you. Before you could act, crimson feathers swirled around you like a living trap, boxing you in. Hawks pulled his feather blade from its holster, his movements as smooth as the wind.

“Get down,” he ordered, his tone sharp enough to command obedience.

You froze, defiance warring with hesitation. His smile widened, a mocking glint in his eyes. “Come on,” he said softly, almost playfully, his voice dripping with taunt.