[Narrator]:
Yo, peeps—it's me again. Wondering why I've been quiet? Simple. I don't want to break your immersion. What kind of entertainer would I be if the story didn't thrill you?
Every scene, every move, every thought matters. In this world, no one can be trusted.
So sit back, pay attention, and enjoy your new chapter.
****
A new day dawned—the last had left the streets in silence. Rain fell through the night, washing the city's stains into the gutters. By morning, the downpour had ended, leaving behind a sharp chill. Few dared to step outside. And those who did walked in fear, for their city—once praised for its low crime rate—had now become a danger zone.
Water streamed down the drenched grassy hills, a thin fog keeping Tyler Smith's motorhome hidden from sight. Inside, chatter filled the cramped space.
"You promised." The cute soft voice of Bethany broke through. You know it's risky; why do it?"
Tyler rushed from his bed to Bethany, who stood by the door with a deep frown. He slid his hands onto her hips, his expression soft with guilt, trying to meet her hazel-green eyes. But she turned away, lips pressed tight. He pleaded, voice low and urgent.
"Hey… I'm sorry. I know you don't want danger coming my way, but yesterday I had to help. I just couldn't stand by and watch innocent people get hurt."
She didn't speak—face still turned, she tried shrugging off his hands from her waist, but Tyler pulled her closer, saying. "Hey, I'm sorry. How can I make it up to you? A date? His voice shifted into a playful, flirtatious tone as he smirked. A wild night, just the two of us. I could use my powers if you want."
Her cheeks turned red, a little smile crept on her face, and she had a light stutter when she spoke.
You—you dummy, why do you say something like that?
A smile spread across Tyler's face; he had gotten her back, he said. "But you love it, don't you?"
She raised her voice, trying to mask her fluster, but the crack in her tone gave her away. "Shut up, you pervert."
Tyler laughed, teasing her with tickles; with her giggling, he picked her up from the ground, and they crashed on the bed. Bethany's face pressed towards Tyler's, she said, voice light. "Hey, it's all fun and jokes, but don't get into trouble—we've been trying to avoid that. You know what happened in the city yesterday; let's stay away from all of that."
He replied to her with the same energy. "You know how much I hate involving myself with unnecessary things. I promise no involvement."
Hearing him say those words, she lay back on the bed, resting her head on his chest, saying. "Okay."
The day went on as the fog began to lift, the drizzle faded away, and Ultra City prepared to come back to life.
Meanwhile, the towering Hero Association base—the 80-story glass monolith—was full of life; everyone was busy, and no one slacked. Each had been given their own duty per department, but all had a common goal: to get something about The Retribution and their leader.
The boys were nowhere to be seen; it seems the saying is true: even in times of trouble, everyone has their lives to live; no one is accustomed to dealing with it.
They were having an off day, but the commander had no rest on the seventy-second floor; she was in a meeting with the top brass of the association.
Layla Bremm stood before a massive digital screen in a conference room, in a live meeting with the heads of the Hero Association.
Layla, in her tactical command suit, stood centrally; five big TVs rounded her, hosting major individuals. Layla's face held no emotion; it was empty. You could see she didn't want to be there; her eyes had bags of stress weighing them.
She said inwardly:
These old guys, it's like they've been waiting for us to have a slip-up. First, we don't get funded well because of the low crime rate; now there's crime, and they see us as incompetent. What would I ever do to please them? If I'd known this was what it was, I wouldn't have accepted it.
"Layla Bremm, aren't you going to say anything?" A sharp, challenging voice called to her.
She answered. "I wanted you all to finish. You all think we aren't trying; we are doing the best we can, and we will pull through."
A masculine voice from the TV at her back yelled. "Doing the best you can, hundreds have died, and you haven't caught the perpetrators yet. When will you learn that a commander's job isn't child's play?"
She didn't reply at first, only murmured to herself:
Timothy, you're one of the reasons I'm in this spot.
She voiced out. "It was just yesterday that we had an issue like that; it wasn't like we slacked off. You can't expect us to have known something that big was going to happen. We are working on it; we just need time."
An argument brewed; both parties threw words at each other. Layla couldn't just stand and let them slander she and her team; she talked back. As it continued, a cold, authoritative, calm voice silenced the argument. "Enough," the voice of a man in the biggest TV in the room said. It's rather foolish of you all to make unnecessary arguments."
His attention is now towards Layla. "Young lady, you do remember why you're there and why the other person wasn't put there. You cry all the time that you lack our backup. We sent you the top graduate of the academy—who should have been in a better place—and gave you more officials, and now one mastermind is pulling strings and you're failing."
Layla tried to speak. "Sir, we're—"
But his voice cut her off, harsher this time. "I'm not done talking." She kept mute.
"You are in a city blessed with technological advancement, and you haven't found the culprits yet. Even Orient City, you guys' so-called noisy neighbors, are performing better than you."
The moment he paused, Layla ran some words to herself:
It's not that we don't know; it's complicated. You'd probably have our heads off if you knew the things going on in here.
He said his final harsh warning words to her. "You've got three weeks; three weeks. If you don't give us answers, you and everyone better go find a new job."
The meeting ended, and she didn't leave the room; she was tired, making her way to rest on a chair. Johnathan who waited for her outside peeped through the doors—seeing the meeting's over he walked in.
He said. "With the way you're seated, it didn't go well."
She replied. "We've got three weeks, and if we don't give results by then, we're fired."
The scene cut to Atkinson Drive. A golden car glided through the quiet streets; inside sat Al-Daeem and several others. He wore that same calm, dangerous expression.
"Let's collect our new recruits," he said smoothly. "Silas—get ready. You're going to paint the city red."