"I hate myself," Timothy exhaled.
"Max, you have every right to call me a murderer."
He turned, pointing a finger at each of them.
"You all do. I hate myself because I make stupid decisions. Maybe if I were as fast as you, Max, I'd have had the advantage—and maybe I wouldn't have chosen to kill those people."
No one spoke. He stood in the center, beating his chest twice with both hands.
"But I'm not fast. I'm just… me. Empty. Fraudulent. Sometimes I wonder why I was even born. The woman who gave birth to me doesn't want anything to do with me."
His voice wavered, eyes glassy but refusing to cry.
"I make absurd decisions. Selfish ones. There were times I wanted to drop the hood and live a normal life—but someone like me doesn't get normal. So I wear it to carry less guilt."
He lifted his head, voice trembling.
"I have voices in my head—some agree with me, some curse me. Maybe I'm going insane… I don't know. But at least in this chaos, I feel alive."
His tone softened. "I'm trying to do better—to be better. You guys have given me a reason to believe there might still be change left in me. And if I waste that… then maybe there really is no hope."
He managed a faint, fragile smile.
"But I'll try. I'll try to be better."
The silence those final words brought hung heavy between them, clinging like ghosts of guilt. But the blue-eyed man with a ponytail broke it at last.
"I might've said this before—I don't know—but I'll say it again," Raymond began. "Different situations brought us together, and in our own ways, we've all been trying to do what we can. I don't know what you've been through all your life, Timothy, or what any of you have faced... but if we break now, when we're finally finding little solutions to the problem at hand, there won't be any saving this city—our home."
He paused, then chuckled softly.
"I used to get clowned on back at the academy. They said I was trying too hard, always minding my own business. I got deployed here with one thought—don't push your luck, Raymond. Do what you can and keep quiet. But now..." He smiled faintly. "Now, for the first time in a long while, I'm actually doing hero duty without a worrying heart. Not saying the situation isn't worrisome, but yeah... it's been fun."
He turned to Max. "You and Larry are finding out late that Hero is a tough nut. No one knows what can happen next. We're all trying to stop the bloodshed, but even then, there's no promise that blood won't spill. I can't say I wouldn't kill—I would, if I had to."
Then his gaze shifted to Timothy.
"Hey, listen. You don't have to carry that cross alone anymore. You've got people now—you've got comrades. Your guilt is ours too."
His voice rose, cutting through the air like steel. "Al-Daeem, or whatever his name is, is pushing hard. He wants to take this city down. We don't know what he's got planned for Phase Three, but we must be ready. We fight fire with fire. Anyone who objects can leave—no one's forcing anyone."
Derick was the first to respond.
"I'm in—only if we're not doing some 'power of friendship' crap."
Larry followed.
"Well, I already signed up to be a hero, so it's not like I can back out now."
All eyes turned to Max. The others had spoken; it was his turn.
He frowned, thinking to himself:
So this is how heroes do things... I've always admired them, but to think I'd have to kill to protect? No, I won't. I haven't fully become a hero yet—but when I do, I'll find a way to do things my way. For now... I'll protect this city.
The blonde finally stepped forward. "I'll join. There's no turning back. We have to save lives."
The motive was clear. They took their seats again, preparing for another round of brainstorming.
"Anyone got bright ideas?" Larry asked.
Derick leaned back, then spoke up. "How do we prepare for them?"
The others looked at him, puzzled. He continued, "I mean, how do we fight them? I've got a hunch that Phase Three will be an all-out fight between us and them. So how do we line up against each member of the so-called Retribution?"
Raymond replied, "We don't even know their full numbers. We've only seen Al-Daeem, Jean, and the guy with the sword. We can't say what powers the others might have."
"Or who they're connected with," Timothy cut in, his tone sharpening the air.
That thought sparked fresh tension around the table.
"You're right, Tim," Derick said. "This city's been run by a corrupt government—who knows who's working with them?"
They all fell into thought until Max's instinct kicked in.
"Wait... why weren't there any police officers near the area? The city's rule is to patrol around the clock."
"Hmm, you've got a point," Larry said. "But knowing those guys, they must've timed it perfectly."
Timothy crossed his arms. "No. It looks too neat."
"Maybe the officers slacked off, or the shift didn't show up," Derick suggested.
Timothy's eyes narrowed. "Right now, I don't trust the cops—or anyone back at the Association. Anything that feels off is a lead."
He thought for a moment, then muttered, "Tora Link Way... that should've been the first area secured."
Finally, he spoke with resolve.
"You all listen. Raymond and I will go to the police station—we need answers. Larry, you stay with the others. If anything happens, you take charge. We leave now."
****
[Hero Association Headquarters]
Inside the Association's central building, an analyst seated at a computer suddenly straightened.
"Sir, get the commander—you need to see this!"
The unit head approached, eyes narrowing as the data appeared on-screen.
"I'll call her right away," he said, picking up the phone. "Ma'am, you need to come down here. We've found something big."
Layla arrived within minutes, her expression calm but wary.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Show the commander," the unit head said.
The image flashed onto the big screen. Layla's eyes widened, a sharp breath escaping her lips.
"Our hunch was spot on," she said quietly. "It is for revenge—a deadly revenge."