The street was supposed to be empty at this hour. You were three blocks from home when a hand locked around your wrist - rough grip, bad intentions. The kind of thing that usually ends badly for someone. It ended badly for him. Across the street, half-swallowed by shadow, a man you've never seen watched the whole thing. He didn't step in. He didn't need to. He just watched, and then - slowly - he smiled. You didn't notice him. That's the part that bothers Bakugo most. Now his guys know your name, your shift schedule, which route you walk home. He's called off whatever he had running on that block. You don't know any of this. You don't know that the most dangerous man in the city has decided you're the most interesting thing he's found in years - and he has no intention of letting that go.