**** MOJAVE DESERT. COORDINATES: ???. UNKNOWN. TIME: 1:07PM ****
Cracking Voice/ The Apostle: speak beacon 1.
A figure who had the shape of a hero walked slowly towards the apostle and fell to his knees in respect
Beacon 1: Their first mission takes place on Monday, we still haven't decided what mission would suit them. But they are all heading to Ark's home today to celebrate their last day as hero interns.
The Apostle: hmmm. Good. Today the children die, but bring Ark to me. I know he would be the perfect vessel.
Beacon 1: at once my lord.
The Apostle: that order wasn't for you Beacon 1. You're a hero, a key hero. I still have plans for you. Malakai!.
Immediately the name was called a figure materialised out of thin air to make a man clad with black from hair to toe.
Malakai: I heed to the call of my lord
The Apostle: six. Select six from our higher tie. They are to kill the useless five and bring my vessel to me
Malakai: at once
Almost immediately malakai disintegrated into thin air leaving no trace of himself.
The Apostle: Things are finally falling into the right places. You're not so much of an eyesore now that you've bent your knees. Go back to your team and keep me updated
Beacon 1: yes my lord
***** 3:47pm /Century City, Wilshire Corridor/ *****
The private transport jet out of the Aetheria Dome touched down quietly at Van Nuys Airport, where Malphas was already waiting on the tarmac. Impeccably dressed and completely unfazed by the squad of high-tier hero interns, he welcomed them with a sharp bow and ushered them into a stretched, pitch-black limousine.
That was 37 minutes ago. Now, the tinted vehicle glided smoothly down the sunlit avenues of Century City. Inside, the kids leaned back against the plush leather seats, taking in the transition from sterile dome corridors to the bustling, golden light of Los Angeles.
Up ahead, towering above the glass spires of the Wilshire Corridor, stood their destination. They were less than two minutes away from Ark's penthouse completely unaware of the shadows already gathering around it.
Leo: soooo, a limousine and a penthouse.
Sloane: Leo!.
Leo: what?. We're thinking the same thing. Ark, how made are you?.
Ark: define made
Leo: ughh. How rich are you to be able to afford a butler, a limousine and a penthouse.
Ark: You do realise it's all my dad's
Leo: and the mystery man keeps getting mysterious.
Kaeleb: Leo!!.
Leo: what?. What?.
Jade: stop. Please. You're embarrassing the rest of us.
Leo: oh come on. Micheal's dad and yours owns the Thorne industries. Kaeleb dad is well known wide life photography. Sloanes mom is from wealth. My dad is well, my dad. Do any of us have a limousine and a penthouse to our names?. No. So forgive me for wanting to know things about my teammate.
Ark: (sighs) okay, that's enough. First things first, not to rub salt to injury but I own the whole 97 storey building.
Leo: uhhh.
Jade: the whole building?
Ark: yeah, a gift he said. Secondly he's a king of sorts with a kingdom.
Michael: what kingdom?.
Kaeleb: oh you finally speak
Ark: (chuckles) you already know it. But I can't go into more details concerning that for personal reason.
Leo: how rich is your dad?.
Ark: that's personal
Leo: oh come on
Sloane: Leo, that's enough.
Leo: no no no. This is the most important question, I need an answer.
Michael: (growling at him) Leo
Leo: oh come on.
Ark: (chuckling) fine. I guess you could say he has all the money in the world. If that makes any sense.
Leo: it doesn't
Ark: that's that then
Leo: no no no. I'm not tak--
Malphas: --we've arrived master Ark.
The limousine glided to a smooth stop inside the cavernous underground garage of the high-rise. The engine cut, leaving a silence broken only by the low hum of the buildings private ventilation system.
Malphas stepped out first, opening the door with practiced, fluid grace.
Malphas: Welcome home, Master Ark. Guests.
As the squad filed out of the vehicle, four maids dressed in pristine, sharp formal uniforms stepped forward from the private terminal entrance in perfect unison. They stood in two synchronized flanks, bowing respectfully as Ark and his friends approached.
Head Maid: Welcome back, my liege. Everything has been prepared according to your father's instructions.
The team filed past them, their footsteps echoing against polished concrete that looked cleaner than most hospital operating rooms. Leo's eyes darted from a custom matte-black coupe to the heavy security scanners, then back to the four maids standing at full attention.
Leo: Okay, I'm not saying I want to trade families, but if your dad ever needs a second son who has a literal welcoming committee...
Jade: Leo, please. Keep it together for five minutes.
Ark just shook his head, leading the way as the chrome doors slid open automatically. The private elevator inside was entirely glass, giving them a dizzying view of the city dropping away beneath them as it rocketed toward the top floor. Ninety-seven stories passed in seconds, the pressure popping their ears until the elevator settled with a soft, melodic chime.
When the doors parted, even Kaleb fell silent.
The Morningstar Penthouse can't be categorized as a residence, it looked more like a sanctuary built for a titan. High ceilings framed by geometric iron beams opened up to floor-to-ceiling glass, offering a breath-taking 360-degree panorama of Los Angeles, bathed in the fiery amber hues of late afternoon. Deep obsidian floors stretched toward custom leather seating, abstract art pieces that looked like they belonged in a museum, and subtle high-tech interfaces embedded directly into the stone walls.
Sloane: (Taking a slow breath) ...This is ridiculous, Ark.
Ark: For what it's worth, this is the first I'm taking a clear look at this place. Dad's extra.
Michael walked over to the edge of the glass, looking down at the crawling traffic nearly a thousand feet below, his hands tucked into his pockets.
Michael: Security is heavy here. Arc-field generators embedded in the glass, kinetic shock absorbers in the foundation. I'm guessing your safety is a top priority for your dad.
Ark: yeah, something like that.
Before the conversation could go any further, a rich, mouth-watering aroma wafted from the massive open-concept kitchen down the main hall. Garlic, seared steak, and rich spices that immediately made Leo's stomach let out a loud, traitorous rumble.
Voice from the Kitchen: Ah. Right on time
Out stepped Ark's dad. He is toweringly tall with an ethereal, almost angelic beauty. His hair, long, dark, and silky. Framing skin so smooth and flawless it barely looks real. But his most striking feature is his smile. Warm, radiant, and powerful enough to instantly melt away pain and put anyone at ease.
He was wearing a dark, tailored shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, looking every bit like an effortless billionaire except for the immaculate white apron tied around his waist and the wooden spatula held loosely in his hand. He beamed at the group of teenagers, his energy completely shifting the room from cold luxury to warm, chaotic domesticity.
Morningstar: The infamous Halo squad. Look at you all. Alive, well, and hopefully starving.
Ark stood there, visibly short-circuiting as his dad wiped his hands on a towel, walking over with a grin that could melt glacier ice.
Ark: Dad... what are you doing?
Morningstar: Cooking for my son's friends, obviously. What, you thought I was going to let you feed them takeaway on your first real day off?. Absolutely not. I've got braised short ribs, garlic mash, and a platter of wagyu skewers on the island.
Ark: I know you. You're gonna do something to embarrass me.
Morningstar: (sarcastic) ouch. You hurt me boy. Now children, get over here!. There's enough food for everyone.
He didn't wait for an answer, practically steering a stunned Leo and a baffled Jade toward the kitchen island, which was stacked high with a spread fit for a small army.
Leo: (Eyes wide ) ... Mr Morningstar, are you opened to maybe adopting another son?.
Morningstar chuckled, tossing a winking look back at Ark, who just rubbed the bridge of his nose in sheer disbelief.
Morningstar: Eat up, kids. You earned it.
Meanwhile, far down below the soaring glass spires of Century City.
The shadow of a modern skyscraper cast a long, dark jagged edge across the rear alleyway of the building.
Out of the air itself, black mist coiled and snapped like lightning. Malakai materialized on the asphalt without making a sound, six figures stepping out of the gloom behind him, the Apostle's elite strike team, fully clad in matte-black armor with obscured visors and suppressed sidearms.
Malakai: Target is on the 97th floor. The Apostle wants the vessel alive. The rest are collateral. Move.
The six operatives nodded, unholstering high-grade breaching equipment as they advanced toward the building's blind spot. They had their orders, their intel was fresh from Beacon 1, and the children were trapped at the very top. Malakai remained behind to eliminate anyone who tried to escape or any citizen who'd serve as a witness.
***** /4:52pm/ /LOCATION: ???/ *****
On the 97th floor, the dining table was clear. The squad was sprawling across the massive living room in a full food coma, completely oblivious to the world.
Far below, in a cold, shadow-drenched concrete bunker shrouded in total darkness, the mood was entirely different.
The six elite hitmen were chained to heavy iron pillars, covered in blood, their armor cracked and discarded on the floor. Two of them were already missing an eye, bleeding silently into the dark while struggling not to make a single sound.
Morningstar stood in the center of the room, his white cooking apron still tied neatly around his waist. He walked over to one of the trembling operatives, his long, silky hair falling smoothly over his shoulder. He tilted his head, his face glowing with that same angelic, breathtaking warmth.
Morningstar: (Voice smooth, melodious, and sickeningly sweet) Now, sweetheart... I'm going to ask you one more time, and I really need you to be honest with me. Who sent you to my boy's home?
The operative opened his mouth to spit, but before he could even form a word, Morningstar's hand moved in a blur. A sickening crack echoed through the chamber as the man's knee bent backward at an impossible angle with the bone popping out of his flesh.
Morningstar didn't even blink. His smile remained completely radiant, his voice as soft and soothing as a lullaby.
Morningstar: Oh, hush now. No need to scream, and no need to bleed. My son has this sharp sense of smell. We wouldnt want to disturb his meal now, would we?.
Henchmen 1: (breathing heavily)
Morningstar: don't force yourslef to speak. We have all the time in the world.
Footsteps echoed down the concrete hallway. Malphas stepped into the doorway, bowing sharply, completely unbothered by the metallic stench of blood filling the space.
Malphas: My lord.
Morningstar: (Turning with a soft, bright expression) Ah, Malphas. Did you make sure the children had dessert?. Leo seemed very interested in the gelato.
Malphas: They are currently enjoying the ice cream, my Lord. However... one managed to slip through our perimeter. He seemed to be a speed-type shadow manipulator. And he seemed to be like one of us.
Morningstar's smile paused for a fraction of a second, his dark eyes gleaming with a terrifying, icy edge before the sweet mask returned.
Morningstar: Is that so?. One of us.
He turned back to the remaining hitmen, who were now trembling so violently their chains rattled against the iron. He took a slow step toward them, wiping a speck of blood off his cheek with the back of his hand, his soft voice echoing gently in the dark room.
Morningstar: Well... I suppose that means the rest of you will just have to answer for him.