It was late at night in Metro City.
The streets were completely empty.
No sign of people anywhere.
This was probably a club night.
The only things breaking the silence were a flickering streetlight overhead and the low rumble of a subway train moving somewhere deep underground.
By the side of the road, an old man sat on a worn-out bench with his legs crossed, holding a steaming porcelain teacup carefully in one hand. His wrinkled face looked calm, almost like the quiet night belonged only to him. Standing right behind him were two huge men dressed in neat black suits, wearing dark shades even though it was midnight. Their arms stayed stiff at their sides, but their sharp eyes kept sweeping over every shadow like hunting dogs on alert.
The old man was Chairman Lymtos.
That was when it happened—
A masked figure emerged from a dark alleyway.
His visor glowed a deep blood-red.
The agents reacted instantly as pistols snapped out of their holsters with smooth, deadly action.
