Episode One
A sleek, high-definition Mercedes-Benz Biome rolled up the driveway just as the sun began to rise, casting a golden hue over the Cruise family mansion. Fresh from the international airport, the car came to a gentle halt. A sharply dressed chauffeur stepped out, opened the door, and helped his boss out. With a firm grip on the suitcase, he hurried inside.
"Hey, look who it is!" A warm, familiar voice greeted the visitor with open arms, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Ethan. I bet you've been enjoying your vacation. And I know you're itching to ask about what's been going on back here. But first rest. We've got plenty to talk about, but you know how it is..."
"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," Ethan replied with a smirk.
"Exactly! That's my boy. It's so good to see you again after all this time."
"Likewise, Don Emilio."
Their eyes locked briefly in silence, then Ethan's gaze wandered to the framed photographs and keepsakes lining the wall.
"How are Maxwell, Julian... everyone at home?"
Don Emilio chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "Same as ever, getting up to the usual antics." He paused, narrowing his eyes at Ethan's rumpled clothes. "But you...go get cleaned up. You stink like a long-haul flight."
Ethan studied the older man closely. His eyes seemed tired... hesitant.
"Something's off," Ethan thought.
"Don Emilio… where's Mom?"
Emilio cracked a grin. "Where else? Probably pulling some magic in the kitchen."
They both laughed.
"I need to talk to you after you freshen up. Something big. The Montenegros are back in the picture. I'm glad you're here."
"Well, I figured that would happen after I put their boss in the ground," Ethan said, sipping from a glass of water.
"Exactly. We've gotta play it smart now. They won't let that slide."
Ethan walked over and picked up the newspaper on the table.
'Deputy Governor vows crackdown on crime syndicates fueling unrest.'
He flipped the page with a sneer. "Typical. The government's all bark, no bite. They hand power to useless law enforcement and call it protection, but people are still dying. Let one vigilante show up, and they're branded a terrorist."
Don Emilio nodded grimly. "One day, Ethan, we'll make that bastard pay. The deputy governor's gonna feel the weight of the people's rage."
Ethan set his glass down, grabbed his towel, and headed for the bathroom.
---
A man seen, sipping from his glass, he tried lighting a cigarette—but the lighter was missing.
"Dammit. All these idiots do is steal shit. One of these days I'll cut their hands off."
As he lit the cigarette with a backup and exhaled, a click echoed, someone had cocked a gun.
"Packer. It's been a while," Nathan said, coolly blowing smoke in the intruder's face.
"Nathan, you scumbag. I thought we had an understanding."
"No, Packer. We're just getting started."
A gunshot rang out.
"Get rid of him. Dump the body in the ocean—make sure the cops don't sniff it out."
"Yes, boss," one of his men muttered, trembling as they dragged the body away.
His phone buzzed.
"Hey," he answered.
"Are you avoiding me?" a soft voice teased.
"No, babe. Just taking care of some business. I'll be back in twenty."
"I made your favorite…"
He smiled faintly. "You always know how to make it hard to leave. I'll be home early, promise."
"I've heard that before."
"C'mon, don't doubt me."
"You've been like this since we started dating two years ago."
Tires screeched.
"Ugh. Babe, I gotta hang up. Traffic's wild."
"Okay. I love you."
Smoke curled from the car's exhaust as he sped off.-
--
Ethan lit another cigarette, staring out at the sunlit garden bursting with butterflies and chrysanthemum flowers. Birds chirped overhead.
"Ethan, my boy," Emilio said, taking a seat beside him. "Glad you changed your mind." He reached out and held Ethan's hand. "I hope this time we can truly work together."
Ethan didn't look convinced. "I still don't understand why you did what you did."
Emilio took a long drink, then sighed. "Some things... you're better off not knowing. I'm sorry. I hope you can accept that."
Ethan nodded slowly. "No problem, Don Emilio. I'll take your word."
Emilio clapped him on the back. "That's why I trust you. Listen_The Vengeance League just called. Richardson turned on us. You need to take care of it. Can't let betrayal fester."
"I don't tolerate backstabbers."
"Good." He handed Ethan a revolver. "There's a Saiga-12 under your bed if things get messy."
Emilio left, his footsteps fading.
Ethan armed himself, strapped on his vest, and listened to the radio.
"Intel says Richardson is heading to Chinatown. Watch out—he's got backup." The signal cut.
He drove off in an old 405 sedan, speeding through the streets.
"I'm on him now," he said, spotting Richardson. Gunfire erupted. Ethan shot out tires, dodged bullets, reloaded—then fired again. He missed.
"Two police cruisers on our tail!"
"Ethan, fall back. The fuzz is onto you."
"Hell no. I finish what I start."
He rolled out of the car and launched a rocket at Richardson's vehicle—BOOM. Fire and smoke filled the street. Shops were hit. Chaos.
"It's done," Ethan said, snapping a photo of the wreck and ditching the car before the cops could track him.
---
At Nicholas's place, things were quiet—too quiet.
"Anyone home?" Ethan called out, noticing a smear of blood.
"Ethan! Bro!" Nicholas pulled him into a hug. "You did it, huh?"
Ethan handed him the photo. "That bastard got what he deserved."
"Damn right. It was genius bringing you back."
"Don Emilio didn't make a mistake. But don't hype me up—I'm no saint."
Nicholas studied him. "He never told you why he did what he did, did he?"
"He said I wasn't supposed to know. And maybe he's right. Not everything needs answers."
Nicholas chuckled softly. "No wonder he favors you. I wish I had that kind of loyalty."
"Come on, man. Don't act
like you're not capable. You're solid."
Nicholas watched silently as Ethan walked back into the street, cigarette lit, disappearing into the shadows.