The first public test of the Knights arrived sooner than the PR team hoped. A midday armored bank heist in Manhattan turned into hell. Live feeds flashed across screens, casting a red shimmer over the chaotic scene. Casualties were already high, and even the SWAT units had been suppressed.
As soon as Alex heard the news, he deployed the team without hesitation. Normally they would have been contracted with a price, but this time he didn't wait for an invitation. This was the Knights' first appearance before the public, and he had to ensure there were no hiccups.
Sentinels were first on the scene. They wore silver‑trimmed vests clearly marked with an open gauntlet. They cut through the crowd with precision, coordinating evacuation routes and setting triage points. Cameras captured the Knights' calm, authoritative movements—handlers directing, volunteers ushered to safety, and medics already preparing stations.
Phoenix and Storm operatives formed the front line. Hooded and heavily armored, they absorbed the gunfire, drew enemy attention, and passed civilians safely to the Sentinels. Field medics from the Sentinel teams moved quickly, stabilizing injured civilians and police officers. The image was striking: armored silhouettes advancing through smoke, the word KNIGHTS emblazoned on every patch and plate.
Moving with precision, Phoenix and Storm operatives pushed forward to intercept the armed robbers. Phoenix operatives unleashed bursts of pyrokinesis, melting down the robbers' heavy machine guns and stripping them of their advantage. Those who resisted were swiftly neutralized with non‑lethal force, while the rest were disarmed and bound. Within minutes, the criminals were captured and handed over to the police.
Within hours, the networks had a single phrase. "The Knights," Anchors repeated it, and the name stuck. The footage aired repeatedly: civilians being carried free, medics working calmly, and shields forming barriers around them. The public saw an organized, capable force—exactly what Alex wanted.
He had even instructed his operatives to avoid any lethal means when subduing the robbers, ensuring that no one could use their actions as an excuse to target him.
The operation proved a decisive success. The Knights not only saved lives but also relieved law enforcement, controlled the narrative, and nudged public trust noticeably in their favor.
---
Two days later, the spotlight shifted to science. Cameras flashed as Maya Hansen stepped up to a podium, flanked by sterile-white displays and a banner bearing the Nova Order's crest. With calm, measured tones, her voice carried a careful transparency.
"When I began my project, others twisted it into something destructive, spreading chaos. But my vision was never about war; they were always for healing. After joining the Knights, I finally had the chance to pursue that vision. Today, we present the Rebirth Chalice Program, a government‑licensed medical initiative created to treat countless diseases and heal severe injuries."
The following days the Chalice program was all in the news, along with the Knights. Journalists latched onto the human angle—wheelchair users applying for trials, families petitioning for loved ones. Networks framed Maya not as a shadow scientist tied to super-soldiers, but as a pioneer of rehabilitative medicine.
The Chalice gave the Knights something invaluable: a compassionate face.
It was a PR victory as much as a scientific one. The public gained hope. Maya gained legitimacy. And Alex gained space to push his true projects under the safety of a humanitarian banner.
---
Later that night, Alex sat in his office, reviewing streams of news coverage on multiple screens. Headlines praised the Knights' intervention in New York and celebrated Maya's announcement as a turning point in modern medicine. He watched carefully, weighing the tone of reporters, the reactions of politicians, and the flood of commentary from the public.
The system's voice suddenly echoed in his mind.
[The System has taken notice of your... creative redefinition of the playing field. Your actions have rendered personal missions obsolete—quaint relics of a bygone era. From this point forward, every decision, every maneuver, and every triumph will be evaluated by the System itself. Rewards in SP will be dispensed accordingly, calibrated to reflect the true worth of your endeavors. Consider this an upgrade, a transcendence of mundane objectives.]
Alex smirked faintly. "About time you caught up."
Satisfied but still calculating, he shut down the monitors and headed to the research wing. As he approached Maya's office, he found the door partially open, and a glance inside revealed her slumped over her desk, surrounded by scattered files. He knocked gently; the sound jolted her awake, and she lifted her head.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked at him groggily. "Why are you here? Don't you have to sleep?" Alex asked.
"I have mountains of files to get through," she muttered, half‑blaming, half‑sleepy. She rubbed her eyes and tried to arrange the scattered papers. "Ever since you made me research director, I can't focus on anything else."
"You're pushing yourself too hard," Alex said evenly. "You don't need to carry all of it alone."
Maya sighed, rubbing her eyes. "I don't know if I can handle all these responsibilities. It's… a lot, Alex."
He stepped closer, his voice steady but warm. "I trust you more than anyone to lead the research. I trust your intelligence. And soon, I'll ease your burden—I'll either get an Artificial Intelligence from Tony, or maybe I'll build one myself."
Her gaze lingered on him, searching for doubt. But all she saw was certainty.
Their conversation drifted, softening from logistics to personal ground, until silence stretched between them. Maya hesitated, then gave a small, tired laugh. "You always sound so sure of yourself. It's… irritating, but also reassuring."
Alex smiled faintly at that, and the tension between them shifted—less professional, more personal. His hand brushed lightly against hers as he set aside a file she had been clinging to, and for a moment she didn't pull away. Instead, her fingers stayed there, resting against his.
The closeness lingered. The hesitation faded. When Alex leaned in this time, it wasn't calculated or hasty—it was slow, giving her the chance to turn away. But she didn't. Their lips met softly, a quiet acknowledgment that trust and shared burdens had grown into something more.
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