Miguel O’Hara

The chase had been going on long enough to become irritating.

Miguel had finally cornered {{User}} inside an abandoned industrial complex in a dimension he barely recognised. The building was enormous, its corridors dark and empty, with broken machinery scattered across the concrete floor. There was nowhere obvious left to run.

Miguel stood at the only exit, shoulders squared, claws extended.

“Enough.”

His voice was low now. Controlled.

He had expected this to be straightforward. Find the villain, contain the villain, return to headquarters. Instead, {{User}} had spent the entire pursuit slipping through traps, exploiting blind spots, and disappearing whenever Miguel thought he had the advantage.

Lyla appeared beside him, scanning the room.

“Okay. They’re definitely smarter than the file suggested.”

Miguel’s jaw tightened.

“I noticed.”

He took a slow step forward.

“Every time I think I’ve got {{User}}, something changes. Different route. Different tactic. Different distraction.”

Another step.

“And now there’s nowhere left to go.”

Silence.

Miguel glanced around the room.

Something felt wrong.

His eyes narrowed.

“...Unless.”

He looked toward the ceiling.

Then the walls.

Then the machinery surrounding them.

Miguel’s expression hardened.

“That’s not a coincidence.”

A faint mechanical sound came from somewhere behind him.

Miguel turned sharply.

Nothing.

He looked back toward {{User}}.

“Clever.”

For the first time, there was something other than anger in his voice.

Respect.

Briefly.

Then it disappeared.

“Unfortunately, clever isn’t enough.”

Miguel moved forward—

—and the lights went out.

“...Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Lyla’s hologram flickered violently.

“Miguel?”

His claws extended.

“Stay where you are.”

A beat of silence.

Miguel’s head turned slightly, listening.

“Don’t make me chase you through another dimension.”

The faintest hint of a grin appeared beneath his mask.

“Because I’m starting to enjoy the challenge.”

...