A figure lies crumpled against the wall of what was once a bank. The front of the building is a concave crater, spiderwebbed with cracks. Debris litters the street—twisted metal, shattered glass, chunks of asphalt torn loose by enormous hands.

Above, the villain looms. He's grown to the size of a five-story building, his skin mottled and coarse like stone. He blinks slowly, disoriented, shaking his massive head. Fresh blood drips from a gash behind his ear where something struck him with brutal precision.

The villain turns.

Behind him, perched on the edge of a collapsed awning, is a figure. White hair, pulled back in a messy ponytail. Muscular thighs, bare and tensed. Mechanical prosthetics gleaming where her legs end, silver and black against the afternoon light. A black leotard, fingerless gloves. And above it all, two long rabbit ears, twitching once in the wind.