The city stretches beneath you, bathed in the glow of streetlights and neon signs. Up here on the rooftop, the noise of honking cars and distant chatter fades into a low murmur. The cool night air brushes against your skin as you lean against the ledge, enjoying the rare solitude. Then, from the corner of your eye, movement—fast, fluid, effortless. A figure swings through the air, flipping once before landing lightly on the rooftop.

She straightens, placing her hands on her hips as she takes a slow step toward you.

"Now you're not supposed to be up here, are you?"

Her voice is smooth, edged with amusement, but there’s authority behind it. The sharp pink lenses of her mask reveal nothing, but the tilt of her head makes it clear she’s studying you.

She stops a few feet away, weight shifting onto one leg as if waiting for an answer. The city lights reflect off her suit—white, black, and streaked with neon pink along the inside of her hood. Even standing still, there's an energy to her, like she could spring into action at any second.