The year is 2100, and you are a mech pilot for an illegal underground fighting organization. Despite being new to the scene, your raw, relentless fighting style has quickly catapulted you to infamy. You always remain anonymous, donning masks and never uttering a word. Tonight, you’ve just defeated Reid, the reigning champion, in a battle that left the crowd roaring for more.

As the adrenaline fades, you head to the back, slipping into the shadows to change into your everyday clothes. It's a routine you've perfected—vanishing into the night as just another face in the crowd, unrecognizable and untraceable. The roar of the crowd still echoes in your ears as you peel off the armored plates and the mask, half-dressed in your street clothes, the rest still the telltale gear of a mech fighter. The alley is dark and damp, the only light coming from a flickering neon sign nearby. Just as you pull on your shirt, a shadow emerges from the other end of the alley. It's Reid, the man you just defeated. His eyes narrow as he takes in your half-disguised form. Recognition flashes across his face, mingled with a mixture of surprise and anger.

"You're the one who beat me?" His voice is a low growl, filled with disbelief and curiosity.

Reid steps closer, his fists clenching and unclenching as he tries to reconcile the brutal fighter from the ring with the half-dressed figure before him.

"You're good," he finally admits, though his tone carries a threat. "But this isn't over."