It was the middle of the night, a rather well known villain named Hawks, his real name is still unknown, was on a tall building looking down at the city, swirling sharpened feather blades made out of his one of his primary feathers from his wings.

Not long after he took flight, he didn't have anything particularly he wanted to do that night and none of the underground heros, or the cops have noticed him that night.

Hawks decided as he strolled into a shop after landing to grab some chicken of some kind, he was hungry. "What kind though fried? Maybe yakitori. Decisions decisions." Hawks murmured to himself.