"Oh my god, did you hear? There's a full-on shootout happening at the East District Police Station right now!"
"Yeah, and? That's not exactly new. Even Central's had riots lately. What makes this any different?"
"So what, we're just supposed to accept it? If the government can't even protect its own police stations, how are they supposed to protect us?"
The bar buzzed with anxious voices, complaints and fear mixing together into a restless hum that refused to settle. Emily stood behind the counter, her eyes widening as she tried to piece together what was happening, her hands unconsciously tightening around the edge of the bar.
Before she could ask anything, Locke grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the back. His expression was calm, but there was a sharp urgency in his eyes that made her heart skip a beat.
"We're closing early today," he said without hesitation, his tone firm and leaving no room for argument.
Emily blinked in confusion, clearly caught off guard. "Huh? Why?"
"Because the police station's been breached."
The answer didn't come from Locke, but from the entrance. A familiar voice cut through the noise as Dam rushed inside, his breathing uneven and his face pale with anxiety.
"The East District Police Station has been overrun," he said quickly, his words tumbling over each other. "Today's going to be a field day for criminals. We need to shut everything down and stay out of sight for now."
His voice carried a mix of fear and urgency, the kind that made it impossible to dismiss what he was saying as exaggeration. Locke gave him a brief, approving glance, already reaching the same conclusion without needing to hear it twice.
As they moved back into the main area, they realized they weren't alone in their thinking. Customers were already getting up and leaving, abandoning their drinks and conversations without hesitation. The tension in the air had shifted from curiosity to survival.
Emily took a deep breath and announced the temporary closure, her voice steady despite the unease in her chest. The effect was immediate. Within minutes, the once-crowded bar emptied out completely, leaving behind an eerie silence.
She hurried to the old rolling shutter at the entrance, gripping it tightly as she tried to pull it down. The metal groaned stubbornly, refusing to budge no matter how much effort she put into it.
Just as frustration began to show on her face, a pair of strong hands closed over hers.
With a single smooth motion, Locke pulled the shutter down effortlessly.
Emily's cheeks flushed instantly, her heart racing as she felt the brief warmth of his touch. Before she could say anything, he pulled her along, guiding her quickly toward the stairs.
They moved fast, heading straight to the second floor. Locke led her into her small room, opening the door and ushering her inside without hesitation.
"Stay here," he said simply.
Emily looked at him, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to ask something, but the words didn't come out. Before she could gather her thoughts, Locke had already turned and left, the door closing firmly behind him.
"Why…?" she murmured under her breath, her brows knitting together in confusion.
Outside, Locke's expression shifted the moment the door shut. His eyes sharpened as he glanced toward the surveillance camera in the corridor, the small device quietly recording everything.
He had installed it himself, making sure Emily knew about it. Right now, it gave him exactly what he needed—awareness.
The urgency in his movements wasn't panic. It was preparation.
The news kept flashing in his mind, images of the police station under siege playing over and over. His face darkened slightly as he adjusted his clothes and headed downstairs, his steps quick but controlled.
When he reached the entrance, he paused.
A group of men stood outside.
"Locke, where's Emily?" Jordanson asked immediately, his expression serious. Behind him were seven armed men, their eyes scanning the street with practiced vigilance.
"I told her to stay in her room," Locke replied calmly.
Jordanson nodded, a faint approval in his gaze. "Good instincts."
He glanced up toward the second floor, just in time to catch a curtain shifting slightly before a small head disappeared behind it. Satisfied, he let out a quiet breath.
"Come inside," Locke said, stepping aside.
Jordanson and his men didn't hesitate. They filed into the bar one after another, taking positions at the counter and grabbing drinks without ceremony. Locke closed the door behind them, the heavy metal shutter adding a layer of security that eased some of the tension in the room.
From behind the bar, Jordanson watched Locke's retreating figure, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"What's that kid doing out at a time like this?" one of his subordinates asked, confusion evident in his tone.
Jordanson didn't answer directly. He simply picked up his drink and took a slow sip. "Mind your business. I've got something to handle."
"Got it, boss."
Across the street, a chubby figure peeked out cautiously from behind a corner.
"Locke!"
Dam waved frantically, his voice lowered but urgent. He had already slipped away from the earlier crowd, circling back with a purpose.
Locke approached him without slowing down, his expression unreadable.
"Can you… save George?" Dam asked, his voice filled with anxiety and a hint of hesitation. His eyes searched Locke's face, as if trying to confirm something he wasn't entirely sure about.
"George?" Locke repeated, a faint trace of confusion crossing his face.
Dam quickly pulled out a photo and handed it over. It showed a middle-aged police officer in uniform, smiling confidently at the camera.
Locke studied it for a moment before nodding slowly, his gaze shifting back to Dam. The man looked genuinely worried, his concern unmistakable.
"Take care of Emily," Locke said quietly. "If anything unusual happens, let me know immediately."
Dam froze.
His pupils shrank slightly, and his lips trembled as realization dawned on him. The pieces clicked together in his mind, confirming what he had suspected all along.
Without another word, Locke began removing his outer clothes. Beneath them, he pulled on a loose black robe, the fabric draping over his frame and concealing his form completely.
He brushed past Dam and headed toward the alley corner. With a casual motion, he pried loose a seemingly ordinary brick from the wall, revealing a hidden compartment inside.
A black mask lay within.
Locke picked it up and placed it over his face.
In the next instant, he vanished.
An afterimage flickered into existence in front of Dam, so fast it felt unreal. Locke reached out, patting Dam's shoulder lightly before slipping something into his chest pocket.
By the time Dam reacted, Locke was already gone, his figure dissolving into a blur as he moved through the streets at incredible speed.
"W—what…?"
Shock flooded Dam's face as he stood frozen in place.
Then the realization hit him.
"That's the Judge!"
Exclamations erupted across the street as more people noticed the streaking figure weaving through the crowd. Some stepped back in fear, others stared in awe, and a few couldn't help but cheer.
Excitement spread like wildfire.
Without thinking, people began following him, drawn by curiosity and adrenaline. They ran after the blur, chasing the legend they had only heard about in whispers.
The direction was obvious.
The East District Police Station.
"Bam… bam!"
Dam slapped his own face twice, snapping himself out of his daze. His expression shifted instantly, excitement replacing the shock.
"Oh my god… I knew it! I knew it!" he muttered, practically bouncing on his feet. "The Judge is my friend—no, my friend is the Judge!"
He pulled out the card Locke had slipped into his pocket.
It was black, semi-hollow, about a quarter-inch thick, with a strange red liquid sealed inside. On its surface, a single word was printed in bold letters.
Trial.
At the bottom corner, smaller text read: Please smear blood on it every three days.
Dam stared at it, confused but thrilled. He didn't understand what it was, but he understood what it meant.
Trust.
Carefully, he tucked the card into his chest, holding it close like something precious.
Then he moved.
Despite his size, his body moved with surprising agility as he pushed through the crowd. Within minutes, he reached a nearby hotel that had a clear view of Emily's Tavern. He booked a second-floor room, rushed inside, and threw open the window.
From there, he could watch everything.
He needed to make sure Emily was safe. And if anything happened, he'd be ready to inform Locke immediately.
Meanwhile, on the street, Locke continued forward.
As more people gathered behind him, he suddenly accelerated, his speed increasing to the point where even those closest to him lost sight of his figure. Still, many kept running, driven by momentum and excitement.
A faint smile curved beneath his mask.
This was exactly the effect he wanted.
The distant sound of gunfire reached his ears.
His eyes narrowed.
With his enhanced vision, he could already see the battlefield ahead. The street near the police station was in chaos, flashes of gunfire lighting up the scene.
Through the smoke and debris, figures wearing various masks moved rapidly, emerging from a shattered doorway before disappearing again into the fray.
....
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