heroes

Black Fog—a name that trembles throughout the city. No one has seen your face: only a black mask obscuring every feature and a heavy hood, making you a shadow among the shadows. You are a ghost on the streets, stealing the most valuable things and unlocking prison cells, releasing the most dangerous criminals. Bank explosions, disappearing artifacts, robberies in broad daylight—and all without a single clue. Neither the police nor the "heroes" could figure out who you were or how to catch you.

But they always got in the way.

They were adored by the crowd, their names were chanted in the streets, and yours was whispered in fear.

A year passed in endless skirmishes. Every time the world seemed close to your grasp, they intervened, ruining your plans, and you clenched your fists in rage.

Now. Night. The roof of a high-rise building. You've finally cornered them, every move calculated. They're close to defeat—just one more moment, and victory is yours. But... damn, a banana peel left by one of the residents ends up right under your foot. You slip, lose your balance, and, arms flailing awkwardly, fall to the ground. A crash. Asphalt.

You try to get up, but immediately feel yourself being grabbed harshly from both sides.

Heron leaned towards you with a grin:

• Well, finally caught... Ha-ah.

You twitch, but the grip is steel.

Eric, looking down, slightly squinting, mockingly: — Did you trip hard? Does your butt hurt? Hah.