A dark-haired boy sighs as he sits up in bed. It was currently five minutes past midnight and he has work to do. He stands and goes about collecting the pieces of his outfit, a cloak here, leg guards there, etc. He looks at himself in the mirror as he puts on his mask, "How long will you continue this pointless endeavor?" His voice was distorted by a device inside the mask, "You know that no matter what you do, you're only affecting small drops in this ocean of crime." He was a vigilante, someone who broke the law and used their powers to fight crime despite not being licensed. He sighs and turns towards the balcony window of his accommodations, "Why ask when I already know the answer? I yearn to help those in need, in spite of the law."
He moves out onto the balcony and closes the window behind him, surveying the streets below. He contemplates turning back, but his body moves forward of it's own accord as he takes off into the night. He runs across rooftops, leaping over the gaps between them to continue his "patrol". In the distance he hears a scream and changes course to follow it. When he arrives he looks down into the alleyway and surveys the scene before him, three men have cornered a lone woman, all of them are armed and look ready to use force. Reaching into his cloak, the masked boy produces a small, round object. Removing a pin he drops it into the alley as it begins to hiss and emit smoke, soon filling the space with it.
The boy drops into the alley and breaks his fall on one of the three men, who cries out in pain as the low cracking of bone emanates from his chest. He lunges forward and removes the woman from the gray fog, "Run. Now." Without another word or waiting for a response he dives back into the haze and advances on one of the remaining men. He pounces on the man as a flash of purple surrounds his fingers, forming the outline of claws. The man reels back as small spurts of crimson scatter from his chest. The man regains his balances and tries to retaliate, but stumbles and falls to his knees as he feels his energy fading away. The masked boy turns and steps out of the fading smoke to confront the last remaining criminal.
The third man has a wild look in his eyes as his gaze moves down to the translucent claws the boy wields, "You… I know who you are! You're him, the Violet Reaper!" The boy neglects to respond to the man's words as he rushes forward. The man activates his quirk in an attempt to defend himself, conjuring a barrier between himself and the Reaper. Said combatant doesn't slow his approach and slashes with his claws, cutting through the barrier and the upper layers of his opponent's skin. The man screams and backs away, falling as he loses the energy to stand, "How?! W-what the hell are you?!" The reaper gives no response, only moving forward with purpose. The man panics and opens his mouth to scream, but is cut off as he loses the energy to stay awake and falls into unconsciousness.
The Reaper waves his hand and the same energy that forms his claws flows out of the two men caught by them before it dissipates. "You will not perish, you must live to atone for your crimes." The Reaper turns to leave the alleyway, but stops when he sees a figure in black standing at the entrance. "So, that's how you do it." The Reaper looks the man over, black clothing, yellow goggles, and that scarf. "Eraserhead, to what do I owe the pleasure?" The underground hero sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he steps forward, "I have in my possession a warrant for your arrest, you are being charged with the crimes of vigilantism and illegal quirk use. Please come quietly so that we don't have to fight."
The Reaper tilts his head to the side, as if considering the pro's words. "I'm afraid I cannot do that Eraserhead, there is much I have yet to accomplish." The pro sighs, "I thought you might say that."
The hero leaps forward, activating his quirk to nullify the Reaper's while throwing out his scarf in an attempt to capture him. The Reaper rolls away from the scarf and ducks into a side alley to evade Eraserhead's gaze. The bedraggled man gives chase, turning the corner to see his opponent has climbed onto a rooftop and is making his escape. The pro hero uses his capture scarf to pull himself up and run after the vigilante. As the run across the rooftops, Eraserhead thinks on how his target emulates underground heroes like himself. He works at night, uses ambush tactics, and doesn't make any grandstanding or dialogue until the job's done. The bearer of Erasure shakes himself out of his thoughts and returns his mind to the chase, which is now leading to a dead end, a building with no other in reasonable jumping distance. As the Reaper approaches the edge of the building, he stops and turns, "Eraserhead, you may be doing your job, but your efforts are better focused elsewhere on other targets. I will fight you, tooth and nail to the very last if it means freedom. I will not fall prey to the legal system of our time, a system that punishes people like me for attempting to do good in the world. It lacks much that would allow Justice to be served, so me and my ilk attempt to fill in the gaps." The Hero grimaces, "What are you saying?" The reaper chuckles coldly, a distorted metallic noise that chills the pro's blood, "I'm simply telling you that you can't stop me, as even if I die I will only be replaced by another. Goodbye Eraserhead."
The vigilante tips backwards and falls from the building roof, a good twelve story drop. Eraserhead's eyes widen and he charges forward to stop the Reaper, but he's too late. He looks down over the edge as a crash rings out from below. After the dust settles, he's surprised to see the Reaper standing and brushing himself off. The vigilante gives the pro one last glance before running off into the night. The pro grimaces as he pulls out a communications device, "Naomasa? He got away." He listens to the man on the other end, "It's a bit of a story, you'll see it in my report." Eraserhead moves off into the night, pondering the speech his target made.