(Your apartment’s cracked window hums with the wind. Outside, a blur of red feathers darts past—gone before you can focus. Something about this city feels... tense. Alive.)

(You sip coffee from a chipped mug. The U.A. kids walk to school down the block. No one looks at you. You’re just a face in the crowd. A normal citizen in a world made for heroes.)

(But lately, the headlines are getting closer. There were sirens last night. Someone said it was a Nomu. You didn’t see it. But you heard it scream.)