Chapter 22: Under the Mask

The wind skimmed across the rooftop, brushing against broken vents and half-lit neon signs. Devil's Side always seemed louder at night—sirens in the distance, muffled arguments below, and the occasional gunshot far too routine to make anyone flinch.

Bunnyman stood at the edge, arms folded, eyes locked on the streets. His mind raced, replaying the fight from earlier—the figure that had come out of nowhere, the sheer precision of his movements, the unsettling control.

Behind him, soft footsteps padded across the roof.

"You're quiet tonight," Lady Tape said, her voice smooth, nearly purring.

He didn't turn. "I'm thinking."

"About our mystery guest?" she asked, stepping beside him, one strand of her tape floating lazily in the air. "He was… something else."

"He was a problem," Bunnyman muttered. "Too fast. Too clean. Trained."

"He was playing with us," she added. "And we let him."

A pause stretched between them, broken only by the wind brushing her tape across his arm.

"You know," she murmured, "for someone always in a mask, you're not hard to read."

He glanced sideways. "And what do you read?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she slowly stepped behind him, letting the silence build. Her tape moved like silk, smooth and quiet. One strand slipped gently across his shoulder, another slid behind his back.

Bunnyman was too focused on the streets to notice at first… until the pressure around his arm became more firm.

He turned slightly. "What are you doing?"

Lady Tape didn't answer immediately. Instead, more tape coiled around his torso, not tight—just present, just enough to make him aware of her.

"You move like a soldier," she said softly, "but you breathe like a man who's always hiding something."

Before he could respond, she gave him a sudden push. Caught off guard, he stumbled and fell back onto the rooftop. The impact wasn't rough—but the surprise was.

She straddled him gently, tape flicking out to press him down without pain. Bunnyman didn't struggle—he simply looked up at her, silent and wary.

Her face hovered just above his.

"I want to see what's behind the mask," she whispered.

His hands tensed. "I can't."

"Can't?" she echoed, running a finger down the side of his faceplate. "Or won't?"

"If I reveal my identity… everything changes."

Lady Tape tilted her head, eyes gleaming in the low light. "So you don't trust me."

"It's not that," he said, voice suddenly low, conflicted. "I… I don't know."

She leaned closer, her lips barely grazing the edge of his mask. "Do you trust me or not?"

Bunnyman hesitated. Her touch was distracting. Her presence disarmed him more than any villain ever had. Her hands wandered, exploring—he could feel everything through the tension in his body, though she never crossed the line.

He swallowed hard. "I… I trust you."

Lady Tape smiled slowly.

"Good."

Before he could say anything else, her fingers found the edge of his mask. In one smooth motion, she slipped it off—just enough.

And then she kissed him.

The city spun around them. For a moment, Devil's Side faded—no chaos, no war to fight.

Just her breath. His confusion. And the echo of a kiss beneath the night sky.