Night had already swallowed Redmont City whole.
Rain drizzled lightly against the towering glass windows of the Judge's private office, streaking thin trails of water down the dark reflective surface.
His office sat high above the city, isolated on the uppermost floor of a private judicial complex.
Unlike Jake's office, which radiated polished prestige and heroic symbolism, the Judge's room felt colder.
Older.
More deliberate.
Dark mahogany shelves lined the walls, packed with ancient legal books, political philosophy texts, and archived case files.
A fireplace crackled softly in one corner, casting orange light against black marble flooring.
A massive desk of polished walnut sat near the center, immaculate except for a single lamp, a stack of documents, and a half-finished glass of whiskey.
No medals.
No photographs.
No decorations celebrating victory.
Only order.
Control.
Precision.
The Judge sat in silence behind his desk, fingers lightly tapping against the wood.
Waiting.
A clock ticked quietly somewhere in the room.
click.
The office door opened.
A man in a white lab coat stepped inside.
Messy hair.
Smug grin.
Hands tucked lazily into his coat pockets.
Steve.
The same irritating confidence as always.
"Well, well," Steve said, glancing around. "Warm fireplace, expensive whiskey, giant creepy office."
He smirked.
"You really know how to build the image of a villain."
The Judge didn't react.
"You're late."
Steve shrugged.
"I prefer dramatic entrances."
The Judge sighed.
Of course he did.
Moments later—
the air distorted.
A circular portal opened beside the bookshelf.
Xin stepped through.
Cold.
Sharp.
Composed.
Her gray combat suit remained spotless.
Her expression, as always, looked permanently unimpressed.
Steve waved dramatically.
"Oh look. My favorite ray of sunshine."
Xin ignored him completely.
The portal closed behind her.
Now all three were present.
The Judge leaned back slightly in his chair.
"Sit."
Neither Steve nor Xin argued.
Steve dropped lazily into a chair, kicking one leg over the other.
Xin sat with perfect posture.
Disciplined.
Silent.
The Judge folded his hands.
"The situation has escalated faster than expected."
Steve tilted his head.
"You mean our little field test went poorly?"
"It succeeded," the Judge corrected.
"Alan is dead."
Steve grinned.
"True."
He leaned back.
"That compound worked beautifully."
Xin crossed her arms.
"It was too visible."
Steve rolled his eyes.
"Oh please."
"One died hero in public and suddenly everyone loses their minds."
Xin stared at him.
"One of the world's strongest heroes died."
A pause.
"That tends to attract attention."
Steve raised both hands.
"Fair point."
The Judge interrupted.
"Enough."
Silence returned.
The Judge activated a screen built into his desk.
Jake's profile appeared.
Several surveillance images followed.
Jake entering his office.
Jake speaking to a suited man.
Jake alone on a balcony.
Jake leaving a secure building.
The Judge narrowed his eyes.
"He's moving already."
Steve leaned forward.
"Paranoid?"
"Curious," the Judge corrected.
"Which makes him dangerous."
He turned toward Xin.
"I want eyes on him."
Xin nodded once.
"I'll send observers."
"Not amateurs."
Her expression remained unchanged.
"I know."
The Judge continued.
"No contact. No confrontation."
"Only movement reports."
"Who he meets. Where he goes. What he investigates."
Xin nodded again.
"Understood."
The Judge shifted his gaze toward Steve.
Now came the second issue.
"The serum."
Steve's grin widened immediately.
"Oh?"
The Judge's voice lowered.
"The version used on Alan was insufficient."
Steve placed a hand dramatically over his chest.
"Ouch."
"It killed him."
"Yes," the Judge said.
"Too quickly."
Steve leaned back again, tapping his chin thoughtfully.
"So you want suffering with improved longevity."
"Noted."
Xin sighed softly.
Steve looked offended.
"What? Efficiency matters."
The Judge ignored them both.
"I need a more potent version."
"One capable of sustained mutation."
"Controlled instability."
"Higher compatibility thresholds."
Steve whistled.
"That's ambitious."
The Judge's gaze hardened.
"Can you do it?"
Steve smiled.
That dangerous smile of someone who enjoyed being asked impossible things.
"Can I?"
He leaned forward.
Judge him not by ethics, for this man misplaced those years ago.
"With enough samples and proper time…"
His smile widened.
"I can make something much worse."
The room fell quiet.
Even Xin glanced at him briefly.
Not impressed.
Just mildly disturbed.
Which, for her, was practically emotional expression.
The Judge stood.
"Good."
Meeting over.
Steve stretched lazily.
"Well that was delightful. Same time next week?"
No one answered him.
As expected.
Xin rose first.
A portal opened behind her.
Before stepping through, she spoke.
"I'll update you once surveillance begins."
Then disappeared.
Steve stood as well.
He adjusted his coat.
"Try not to start world domination without me."
He flashed a teasing salute and exited normally through the door.
The Judge was left alone.
Again.
Silence returned to the office.
Only rain.
Only the soft crackle of fire.
He glanced once at the city below.
Thinking.
Planning.
Calculating.
Then grabbed his coat and left.
Outside, a black luxury vehicle waited.
A driver stepped out immediately and opened the rear door.
"Good evening, sir."
The Judge entered.
"Take me home."
"Yes, sir."
The door shut.
The vehicle pulled away from the judicial complex, merging quietly into the night traffic.
Streetlights blurred across rain-speckled windows.
Inside the dim cabin, the Judge sat in silence.
His expression unreadable.
After a long pause, he reached into his coat and pulled out an old silver pocket watch.
Its surface was scratched with age.
Worn.
Used often.
Carefully, he pressed the latch.
Click.
The watch opened.
Inside was a photograph.
A woman.
A young boy.
And between them—
him.
A family portrait.
A moment frozen in time.
A life that no longer existed.
For the first time that night, the coldness in his eyes softened.
Just slightly.
His thumb brushed gently across the glass surface, tracing their faces with quiet care.
Almost lovingly.
A fragile motion from a man who otherwise looked carved from stone.
Silence filled the vehicle.
Only rain.
Only memory.
his expression changed.
The softness vanished.
Replaced by something far darker.
Far heavier.
His gaze sharpened, hard enough to cut through steel.
"This is only the beginning," he murmured.
His voice was low.
Steady.
Carrying years of buried hatred.
"The battle has just begun."
His grip tightened around the pocket watch.
"And it is far from over."
A pause.
His jaw clenched.
faint blue light pulsed beneath the skin of his neck before disappearing.
Everything inside him hardened.
Pain.
Rage.
All forged into something colder.
More dangerous.
"I will make them pay, for everything they took from us."
His eyes darkened.
"The suffering they gave us…"
He slowly closed the watch.
Click.
"…I will return it tenfold."
He leaned back into the leather seat.
Closed his eyes.
Not from peace.
Not from comfort.
But to prepare.
Because tomorrow—
the war continued.
Several districts away.
Far from towers and politics.
Far from heroes and conspiracies.
A narrow alley sat buried between aging apartment blocks.
Wet pavement reflected flickering neon lights.
Garbage bins lined cracked walls.
Rainwater dripped rhythmically from rusted fire escapes.
A woman hurried through the alley.
Mid-twenties.
Office attire.
Umbrella clutched tightly in trembling hands.
Her heels clicked nervously against wet concrete.
Too fast.
Too uneven.
She kept glancing behind her.
No one.
Still—
something felt wrong.
Then—
footsteps.
Not hers.
She froze.
Three men emerged from the darkness ahead.
Another two stepped out behind her.
Blocking both exits.
Her breathing hitched.
One of them grinned.
"Well."
"Looks like you took the wrong shortcut."
The others laughed.
Low.
Ugly.
The woman backed away slowly.
"Please… I don't have anything valuable."
One man stepped closer.
"Oh, we're not after your wallet."
Her face paled.
The group closed in.
Predatory.
Cruel.
THUD.
Something crashed down from above.
Hard.
Fast.
One of the men was suddenly driven face-first into the pavement.
Concrete cracked beneath the impact.
The others jumped back in shock.
A figure stood between the woman and the group.
Male.
Athletic build.
Dark tactical suit accented with crimson lines.
Half-mask covering the upper face.
A local hero.
Not famous.
Not top-ranked.
But recognizable.
Redmont's district-level protector.
Crimson Viper.
One thug cursed.
"What the hell?!"
Crimson Viper rolled his shoulders.
"You guys really suck at timing."
Then the fight began.
Fast.
One attacker rushed first with a knife.
Too slow.
Crimson Viper sidestepped cleanly, grabbed the wrist, twisted—
SNAP.
The knife clattered to the ground.
The man screamed.
A second swung a pipe.
Crimson ducked beneath it and drove an elbow into the attacker's ribs.
Crunch.
Air exploded from the man's lungs.
A third charged from behind.
Crimson pivoted.
Low kick.
The thug's leg buckled sideways.
He collapsed instantly.
Two remained.
Now cautious.
Smarter.
One circled left.
The other right.
Trying to flank.
Crimson smiled beneath the mask.
"Better."
They attacked simultaneously.
One punch.
One tackle.
Crimson leaped backward onto a dumpster, using the elevated position to avoid both.
Then launched himself forward.
Like a missile.
His boot connected with one attacker's jaw.
The impact spun the man sideways into a brick wall.
Hard.
The final thug hesitated.
Bad choice.
Crimson closed the gap immediately.
Three quick strikes.
Solar plexus.
Jaw.
Temple.
The man crumpled.
Done.
Silence returned.
Only rain.
Only heavy breathing.
The entire fight had lasted maybe twenty seconds.
The woman stared wide-eyed.
Shaking.
Crimson turned toward her and softened slightly.
"You alright?"
She nodded rapidly.
"Y-yes."
He retrieved her dropped umbrella and handed it back.
"You should avoid alleys."
Weak advice.
But technically true.
The woman laughed nervously.
"Thank you."
Crimson nodded.
"Go home."
She hurried away immediately.
Not needing further encouragement.
Crimson looked down at the unconscious men.
Sighed.
"Paperwork."
Above the alley—
high atop a nearby building—
another figure watched.
Liberty.
Arms crossed.
Hair moving slightly with the wind.
Her expression unreadable.
She had watched the entire thing.
The fight.
The civilians.
The hero.
Normal city chaos.
Small.
Insignificant.
Compared to everything else happening beneath the surface.
A phone vibrated in her pocket.
She answered.
"Yes?"
A voice came through.
Distorted slightly.
"I found something."
Liberty straightened.
"What?"
A pause.
"Possible lead connected to Alan."
That got her full attention.
"But I can't verify if it's real."
Liberty narrowed her eyes.
"Explain."
"Encrypted records."
"Storage logs."
Hidden archives.
Possible facility references."
Another pause.
"Could be fake."
"Could be bait."
"Could be exactly what we're looking for."
Liberty stared out over the city.
Thinking.
Calculating.
Finally:
"Send location."
A notification appeared instantly.
Coordinates.
Industrial sector.
Abandoned district.
Of course.
Liberty smiled faintly.
"Stay there."
She ended the call.
Looked once more at the city below.
At the ordinary hero now dealing with unconscious criminals.
At the endless lights stretching across Redmont.
A city full of masks.
Full of lies.
she stepped off the building.
And flew into the night.
Toward answers.
Or something worse.