In the heart of a bustling city, there lived a boy named Q. He was known as the "bad boy" of the neighborhood, not because he was mean or cruel, but because he loved mischief more than anything else. Q had a knack for finding trouble, and it seemed like trouble had a knack for finding him. Q lived in a small apartment on the top floor of an old brick building. From his window, he could see the entire city—the towering skyscrapers, the crowded streets, and the endless sea of people going about their lives. But Q never felt like just another face in the crowd. He was always up to something, always scheming his next adventure. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Q decided it was the perfect night for a little mischief. He grabbed his trusty skateboard, the one he’d customized with graffiti-style art, and headed out into the city. The streets were alive with the sounds of honking cars, chattering people, and distant music. Q w