Part 1 – The Masked Menace
The heart of West Yorkshire's defense—the ENU Headquarters—hummed with dread. Beneath the polished floors and perfect protocol, a storm was coming. Uniformed agents surged through corridors, their expressions grim. Something was about to change. Everyone could feel it.
Inside a private conference room, eight senior officers sat at a large oval table. Their case files were thick. Their eyes, tired. Every breath in the room felt like it might be the last before war.
The door opened with a sharp creak. Chief Superintendent Richard Morgan entered, his cane tapping against the tile with solemn rhythm. A fresh bandage wrapped his right hand. A scar sliced across his cheek—a reminder of the last time they crossed paths with the devil they were about to discuss.
He didn't waste time. With a flick of his hand, the projector buzzed to life, casting a cold light across the table.
"Afternoon, gentlemen," Richard said. His voice carried authority, weighed down by experience. "Today may go down in history as one of the most pivotal battles against the Enhanced."
Murmurs stirred like a storm beneath the surface—some skeptical, others wary.
Richard's gaze sharpened as he gestured toward the youngest man in the room.
"Agent Grimes will be leading tonight's operation."
Steven Grimes stepped forward—early thirties, sharp suit, sharper eyes. Despite his youth, he radiated control. Whispers danced through the room like fire on dry grass.
Too young.
Not tested enough.
Why him?
Steven adjusted his tie—not out of nerves, but to center himself. This wasn't just another briefing. This was his moment, whether the old men in the room accepted it or not.
"I won't waste your time with pleasantries," he said coolly, clicking to the first slide.
A grainy photo appeared—a figure in black stood atop a burning building, his white mask gleaming in the firelight. Long hair billowed behind him. His silhouette screamed chaos. Terror. Power.
Steven let the image hang for a beat.
"Our target…" he began. Then paused. Letting the name settle like a curse.
"The Masked Menace."
The air grew heavy.
"Leader of the Enhanced Revolutionary Group. Responsible for mass destruction, targeted attacks on ENU facilities, and triggering a state of national emergency."
A tense silence followed.
"So it was him..." one officer muttered.
"All that carnage, and we still don't know who he is?" said another.
"We've lost dozens of agents to this lunatic," Officer Campbell snapped, his frustration barely concealed. "And now we're putting our hopes in someone who's still—" He caught himself. "—earning his reputation?"
Another officer glanced at Richard. "Shouldn't someone more experienced lead this?"
Richard's face darkened.
"Steven is one of the finest agents I've ever worked with," he said coldly. "His combat skills surpass anything you've seen. If any of you doubt his capability, I suggest you compare his record to yours. If it even comes close."
Silence fell. Steven allowed himself the smallest of smirks.
Richard leaned heavier on his cane. "I've chased this bastard before. Paid the price for it. I'm not making the same mistake twice."
Steven clicked again. The next slide showed an old, weathered mansion hidden in thick woods.
"Our intel confirms our target is inside," Richard said. "This is a coordinated strike. No more waiting."
Another click. A new face appeared—red hair, vendetta mask.
"Eric Hoffmann," Steven said. "Alias: The Vendetta. His right-hand man. Cold-blooded killer. Expect many more like him tonight."
Outside the conference room, tension hung in the hallway like smoke. Class S Agent Lopez leaned casually against the wall, eyeing his colleague.
"Nervous?" he teased.
Class A Agent Williams jumped, quickly hiding the anxious tapping of his foot.
"What? No. Just a habit."
"Uh-huh," Lopez smirked.
The doors burst open. Officers poured out, all business. Richard and Steven emerged last.
"All good?" Lopez asked.
Steven exhaled. "Could've been better. But yeah."
"They're briefing their squads now," Richard said. "Time to do the same."
Steven nodded. "Lead the way."
Three months earlier.
The ENU's Evidence & Server Bureau was under siege.
Alarms blared through smoke-choked halls. Screams echoed. Employees fled for their lives as figures in crimson robes stormed the facility, setting everything ablaze.
Richard and Steven arrived at the scene. Richard moved swiftly—no cane, no scars. A different man.
Steven gripped his radio.
"We've got a 10-80 at the Bureau. Requesting backup."
Richard's jaw was tight. "We don't wait, Steven. He's here. This is our shot."
Steven hesitated. "Shouldn't we—?"
Richard clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Now or never."
They pushed in.
On the fourth floor, Richard burst through the doors, gun raised. Two revolutionaries turned—then laughed.
"Well, look who it is," one mocked. "The ENU's grandpa!"
The other snorted. "Want me to get your walker?"
Richard didn't answer. He fired.
The revolutionaries dropped behind translucent grey shields. The bullets bounced harmlessly.
Support types, Richard realized. Regular rounds won't cut it.
He reached for his special ammo—but a violet dagger struck his hand. He grunted, staggering back.
From the smoke, a figure emerged.
Long coat. Blank mask. Eyes like dying stars.
The Masked Menace.
"Go," he said to the others. "I'll handle this."
The revolutionaries vanished into the smoke.
Richard's fingers shook as he raised his weapon again.
"I have eyes on him," he whispered into the radio, his voice strained.
The Menace's shadow stretched over Steven. "Calling backup? I'm honored."
A sword of violet energy erupted in his hand.
Richard moved. Too slow.
The blade grazed his cheek. Blood blossomed.
The next strike sent him crashing into the wall.
Steven was on the second floor helping civilians when he heard the call. He bolted up the stairwell—only to find three revolutionaries blocking his path.
One conjured an orange dagger. Another's fists crackled with blue energy.
Steven pulled his own weapon—a transparent, cylindrical hilt filled with yellow liquid.
"Move," he said flatly.
They grinned. "Or what?"
He activated the blade. Energy hummed into existence.
Steven smiled.
"Your call."
The hallway lit with chaos.
On the fourth floor, Richard struggled to stand. Blood dripped from his hand. The Menace examined Richard's confiscated weapon.
"So much power," he murmured. "Wasted on killers."
He raised the gun and aimed it at Richard's head.
Before he could fire, Steven burst through the smoke.
The Menace's earpiece crackled.
"Sir... it's not him," a voice said.
The Menace turned toward Steven, studying him.
Not a scratch.
"Not bad," he murmured. His free hand reached behind his back.
Click.
Steven saw the glint of metal too late.
BOOM.
The explosion swallowed the floor.
Steven shielded Richard with his body. Flame, ash, and steel engulfed them.
Above the inferno, the Masked Menace stood on the rooftop.
Flames raged below.
He turned his back on the chaos.
Now.
A projector flickered in the Alpha Squad war room. Steven stood at the front. The same image appeared—The Masked Menace, face hidden behind a mask of fire and shadow.
Steven stared into that soulless visage.
"Tonight," he said, voice sharp as steel, "we end him."
No more doubts. No more second chances.
Only one truth remains—who will survive the night?
Part 2 - Before the Masks Fall
The Intelligence Department at ENU HQ buzzed with low chatter and the clicking of keys. In the dim light of the command center, dozens of agents hunched over computers, their faces glowing with the shifting data streams on screen. At the front of the room, a towering digital monitor displayed mission feeds and surveillance footage—like something out of NASA.
John sat at his station, tapping away with sharp focus. His younger colleague, Jesse, leaned back in his chair nearby, arms folded, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"Hey," Jesse muttered, barely loud enough to be heard, "you up for coffee?"
John blinked, glanced over, and stretched his fingers. "Yeah, sure."
Pantry – A few minutes later
Steam rose from the coffee pot as John poured himself a cup. Jesse leaned against the counter, arms crossed with a grimace plastered on his face.
"This job's draining the life out of me, man," he groaned.
John took a sip, hiding a smirk. "Was wondering when the whining would start."
"Not funny," Jesse said flatly. "You don't know what I gave up to be here tonight."
"Oh?" John raised an eyebrow. "What tragic sacrifice did you make today?"
"A date," Jesse replied with a theatrical sigh. "An actual, real-life, model-tier goddess. Set up by a friend. Eight o'clock sharp. Now? Gone."
John's brow furrowed. "Why can't you still go? We get off at six."
Jesse stared at him like he'd grown another head. "Dude… seriously? You do know what today is, right?"
John froze mid-sip.
Oh, shit.
"She's a perfect ten," Jesse continued, completely unaware. "No way she shows if I reschedule. That ship has sailed."
John bolted out of the pantry, coffee forgotten.
Office of the Intelligence Head – Shortly After
The Intelligence Head glared at John from behind his desk, his arms crossed like iron bars.
"You must be joking. How the hell did you forget about today?"
"I'm sorry, sir," John said, flustered. "It completely slipped my mind."
"You're one of our senior analysts. I can't afford to let you leave."
"But my daughter—she'll be alone at home."
The Head stared at him, unmoved. "Not my problem. Hire a sitter. Now get to work."
A beat of silence.
"Please," John said quietly. "Just let me drop her off at her aunt's. Fifteen minutes."
The Head sighed, tapping his pen against the desk. Then he gave a reluctant nod.
"Fine. But be back by 6:15. Sharp."
"Thank you, sir."
Alpha Squad Briefing Room – 5:00 P.M.
Chief Superintendent Richard stood before a room filled with agents.
"We move at dusk," he said. "You've got two hours to prepare. Dismissed."
The agents filed out. Among them, Steven, Lopez, and Williams stuck together as they made their way down the corridor.
"So," Williams said, "is the old man coming with us?"
"Yeah," Steven replied, shaking his head. "Tried talking him out of it, but he's too stubborn."
"Can't blame him," Lopez said. "You two have been chasing this guy for years. I wouldn't sit this one out either."
Steven gave a small nod of agreement. Williams, however, grinned wide.
"I want a strawberry milkshake."
Steven stopped walking. "What?"
"You heard me," Williams said, completely serious. "A nice, cold strawberry milkshake."
"The biggest mission of our careers, and you want a milkshake?"
"Well," Williams shrugged, "I'd ask for vodka, but I doubt that'd help right now." He chuckled, then added, "Tell you what—everything goes smooth, and I'm buying milkshakes for a month."
Lopez reached out and patted his head. "Vodka might help you sleep, but it won't help you fight."
Williams chuckled again—then hesitated. His fingers twitched slightly before disappearing into his pockets.
"...Hey," he said more quietly, "you think we'll all make it back?"
Lopez paused mid-step. Even Steven turned to look.
"Of course," Lopez said after a beat, flashing a crooked grin. "You think I'd let you die before you buy me that milkshake?"
Williams laughed, but something lingered behind his eyes.
John's Apartment – Evening
John entered his home, calling out as he closed the door.
"Missy?"
"In here, Daddy!" his daughter's voice rang from her bedroom. "I'm playing with Rudolph!"
"Missy, we're late. We have to go."
She ran out of her room, nine years old and full of energy. "But you have to meet my friend first! He came from really far away!"
John frowned. "Honey, what do you—"
She tugged his hand and pulled him into her room. And that's when the world fell away.
Eric sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by stuffed animals, a casual smile on his face.
"Hey, Daddy," he said.
John's heart nearly stopped. Instinctively, he stepped in front of Missy, shielding her.
Eric raised a hand, and a red dagger of pure energy shimmered into existence.
"Look!" Missy beamed. "He can do magic!"
Later – John's Bedroom
John sat frozen, staring across the room as Eric leaned against the window.
"You know who I am?" Eric asked, watching the city lights.
John's lips trembled. "P-Please don't hurt my daughter…"
Eric smirked. "I'll take that as a yes."
He turned and stepped forward slowly.
"There's been a lot of chatter at HQ today," he said. "Want to tell me what's going on?"
John didn't answer. His mind screamed. Do something. But he couldn't move.
"Wrong answer," Eric said, spinning the dagger in his hand. "You know who's getting this if you don't talk? I'll give you a hint—it's someone in this apartment, and it's not you."
John's knees buckled.
"I'll talk," he whispered, voice breaking. "Just don't hurt Missy."
Eric smiled, as if he'd just won a friendly game. "That wasn't so hard."
He dropped onto the couch, legs crossed, dagger still glowing faintly in his hand.
John sat across from him, hands trembling. Every word he was about to say felt like betrayal carved into his soul.
Missy ran in, holding her favorite plushie.
"Daddy? Are you okay?"
John forced a smile. "Go pack your toys, sweetheart. We're going on a trip."
She skipped away, humming. The moment she was gone, John turned back to Eric, eyes full of hatred.
HQ Locker Room – 6:30 P.M.
The air was tight. Tense.
Metal lockers clanked open and shut. Kevlar vests zipped up. Holsters snapped into place. Weapons loaded. Click. Slide. Lock.
Williams adjusted his gear, admiring the bold white ENU logo on his chest.
"What do you think?" he asked. "Not bad, right?"
Lopez deadpanned, "You look like a clown."
Williams grunted and pulled on his shock gun belt. But his fingers trembled as he did, and he quickly clenched his fists to steady them.
Lopez stepped in behind him and tugged the straps of his vest tighter.
"Call your fiancée," he said softly.
Williams hesitated, brushing his communicator with his thumb.
"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I will."
Across the room, Steven watched the two with a fleeting smirk. It vanished almost instantly.
The tension was suffocating now.
One agent fumbled loading his rifle.
Another muttered a quiet prayer.
Then the door swung open—and Richard walked in, his face a mask of frustration.
"I've been pulled from the operation," he said. "Commissioner's orders. Apparently, I'm 'too injured' to lead from the front."
Steven stiffened. That meant command fell entirely to him.
He nodded. "Understood, sir."
The Revolutionaries' Hideout – 7:00 P.M.
The Masked Menace stood on a balcony above a vast hall of red-robed followers. Their faces, hidden behind masks, were all turned to him.
A quiet storm of power simmered in the air.
Kira appeared beside him, arms crossed.
"Took you long enough," she said.
Eric stepped in behind them, casually flipping his dagger into the air. "Had things to take care of."
The Masked Menace didn't respond. His gloved hand rested on the railing, the cold metal grounding him. He stared down at the crowd—his people, his army.
The storm will begin tonight.
"Let's give them a proper welcome," he said, voice steady.
His fingers brushed the side of his mask.
For a split second, in the reflection of the steel, he saw a face that wasn't entirely sure.
Then it vanished.
He turned.
The mask slipped over his face.
Part 3: Monsters
The grand hall of ENU Headquarters pulsed with tension. Eight squads of Agents and Officers—twenty-five strong each—stood in formation beneath the cold, sterile lights. Faces were stoic, eyes sharpened with resolve… and fear.
At the head of the room, the high-ranking officers stood elevated above the rest. Commanding. Silent. Watching.
Richard stepped to the podium.
"I won't waste time telling you things you already know."
He paused, letting his voice ring out.
"You chose to defend those who still believe in us. Who still believes in justice. That makes you more than a soldier."
His gaze swept the hall.
"It makes you a protector."
A wave of murmurs rippled through the squads. No cheers—just quiet nods and tightened grips on weapons.
"We do not fight for revenge. We do not fight for blood. We fight to end this war before it begins."
He stepped back.
"Agent Steven Grimes," Richard said. "You lead them."
Steven stepped forward, eyes hard, voice thundering.
"I know some of you are afraid. I know some of you are ready to tear those bastards apart."
He let it hang for a beat.
"But fear means what we fight for is real. And remember—
We don't fight alone. We don't run. We don't break.
WE ARE ENU!"
He raised his fist.
"AND TONIGHT—WE BRING THE FIGHT TO THEM!"
The hall exploded with cries and weapons raised.
"ARE YOU READY?!" Richard shouted.
"YEAHHHHH!" they roared back.
7:45 PM – ENU Convoy En Route
Armored trucks thundered through the city streets. Inside, silence reigned.
In Maya's truck, the air was thick. An agent beside her offered a cigarette.
"Smoke?"
"No thanks," she muttered, gripping her rifle.
Across from her, a young officer clutched a worn photo of his wife and child before slipping it into his vest.
8:02 PM – Perimeter of Masked Menace's Hideout
The trucks pulled to a halt.
Richard's voice crackled over comms.
"Launch the drones."
A swarm of drones buzzed into the air, scanning rooftops and surrounding trees. The screens inside ENU's command room showed nothing.
Steven's voice came through, tense.
"Any sign of them yet?"
"Negative."
An officer muttered, "This feels… wrong."
"No damage, no traps, no signs of retreat," another said. "It's too clean…"
Then—movement.
On the rooftops: fifteen silhouettes. Masked. Armed. Waiting.
Masked Menace, Eric, Mila, Kira among them.
"Got you," Richard whispered.
8:05 PM – MM's Hideout
"All units—GO!" Steven ordered.
The squads deployed instantly, surrounding the hideout.
From the shadows, a manhole cover creaked open.
MM (V.O.):
"There are many kinds of monsters in this world…"
"Some wear masks. Some don't."
Then—every drone feed went black; one by one.
Richard's voice rang out:
"What the hell—?!"
And the night exploded.
Charlie Squad – Battlefield
The trees came alive—Revolutionaries dropped down like specters, some cloaked in Natural Energy, some wielding blades, some radiating chaos.
Gunfire erupted. Muzzle flashes lit the battlefield. Cries rang out—both human and inhuman.
And then she landed.
Mila crashed into the ground with a cyan shockwave.
Officers were flung aside like paper. The dust cleared.
She rose slowly, twin energy blades humming in her hands, cyan light glowing against her armor.
Maya stepped forward, jaw clenched.
"I won't forgive you for what you did."
Mila tilted her head, twirling one blade.
"Forgiveness? How noble."
She stepped forward.
"But tell me—who asked for it?"
Maya charged.
Sparks flew as Maya's artificial energy blade met Mila's natural energy blade. Maya struck high—Mila parried. She spun, countered low—Maya leapt back.
Every clash sang through the battlefield.
"You ENU agents always fight like machines—efficient, but uninspired," Mila said, dodging another strike.
"Why do you think we hate you?"
"Because you're criminals!" Maya shouted.
Mila scoffed, catching Maya's wrist mid-swing.
"No. Because you serve a lie."
She twisted. Maya gasped in pain.
"There are monsters hiding behind rules… behind chains of command."
Golf/Hotel Squad – Battlefield
Kira came down like a meteor, yellow energy crackling from her hammer.
"SURPRISE!"
She slammed it into the ground—shattering pavement and launching a squad backwards.
She grinned.
"Who's next?"
Alpha/Bravo Squad – Side Alley
Eric stood over a wounded ENU agent, flipping through a stolen stack of ID cards.
The agent clawed at the ground, blood seeping beneath him.
Eric murmured:
"You bleed the same as the rest."
He raised his dagger.
"Some monsters don't even know they've become one."
The blade sank deep into the skull.
Eric barely looked as a Revolutionary handed him another stack. He flipped through them… stopped.
He grinned.
"Found him."
Steven vs. MM – Main Road
Steven sprinted through the chaos, locking onto Eric.
He raised his artificial sword, blade shimmering blue.
One clean strike—
CLANG.
The blow was caught.
By a black-gloved hand.
He was there.
The Masked Menace.
Black coat billowing in the wind. His mask—expressionless, empty, terrifying. One hand held Steven's blade effortlessly. The other clenched into a fist.
Then—
A brutal kick.
Steven flew backwards. Crashed into a truck. Metal groaned. His ribs cracked. Blood sprayed.
MM stepped forward, voice like a void.
"We meet again, Agent."
Ollie – Radio Comms
"Oi, Eric, we're taking heavy damage!"
Eric looked up. Saw Revolutionaries falling.
"Fall back," he said calmly,
"Join Mila and Kira."
Steven rose, barely. His sword trembled in his grip.
Behind MM… a pile of bodies.
His comrades.
His friends.
"Monster…" Steven whispered.
MM stepped forward, calm. Cold.
"You call me a monster."
"But tell me—how many have you buried in the name of order?"
Eric stepped beside him.
"You sure you're ready for this?" he taunted.
Steven's chest heaved.
He raised his sword.
"Always."
MM narrowed his eyes.
"Let's finish this quickly."
"I used to think monsters were born… twisted, broken from the start."
"But I've seen the truth now."
"Monsters are made. By people. By systems. By silence."
"There are many kinds of monsters in this world… And tonight, they all bleed."
The storm swallowed them whole.
Part 4 - No Heroes Here
The sunlight bled gently through the curtains.
Steven stepped into the quiet room, balancing a small tray. A few pill bottles rattled softly on the wooden surface as he approached the bed. His mother sat there, staring out the window with hollow, distant eyes.
"Good morning, Mom," he said softly, kneeling in front of her. "How are you feeling today?"
There was no response—just the same empty stare.
Steven gently took her hand. It was cold, fragile. He offered a small smile.
"The nurse will be here soon," he continued. "Once she gets in, I'll head out. I might be back late, so make sure you take your meds, alright?"
Still nothing.
He leaned in, kissed her on the forehead, and turned toward the door. For a moment, he paused and looked back—just in case she might say something.
She didn't.
He left in silence.
✦
Sparks flew as two blades clashed.
Steven grunted, stepping back, his yellow artificial sword crackling with residual energy. Across from him, the Masked Menace held a sleek violet blade, unnervingly calm despite the chaos around them.
"You have no way to escape," Steven growled. "Surrender now—and your life will be spared."
The Masked Menace tilted his head slightly, amused. "You really think you can kill me, Agent?"
A pause.
"I'll surrender... if you can put a scratch on me."
Steven narrowed his eyes and drew a second sword—stronger, heavier, humming with enhanced power. The air between them thickened with tension.
Elsewhere on the battlefield, bullets whizzed past. Williams fought his way through a swarm of revolutionaries, his energy shield glowing with each deflection.
There's no end to this...
They just keep coming...
✦
Flashback – ENU HQ Locker Room
Lopez was already suited up when he found Williams slipping a folded note into his locker.
"Call your fiancée," Lopez muttered. "Could be the last time you get to talk to her."
The smile faded from Williams' face.
"…Yes, sir," he said quietly.
Lopez started to walk away, then paused. "Ah, right. They took our phones."
Williams chuckled, weakly. "Well... that's reassuring."
"You'll be fine," Lopez said, managing a rare grin. "I don't plan on dying today. And where the hell would I find another idiot like you as my partner?"
Williams rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the pep talk."
They bumped fists.
"You ready?"
Williams nodded. "Yeah."
✦
In the present, Williams' weapon clicked—empty.
Across the field, Jeff was mid-swing with his sword when a revolutionary lunged at him from behind, claws glowing bright red. Too late.
ZAP!
Three shock discs embedded into the revolutionary's back, electricity surging through his body. He seized violently—then Williams' shield slammed into him, sending him flying into rubble.
"You're getting sloppy, Jeff."
Jeff panted, nodding. "Thanks… I owe you."
Kira tore through a group of agents, forcing them to scatter.
"We can't hold formation with her running wild!" an agent shouted. "If we don't stop her now, we're done!"
"I have a plan," said another. "Cover us. I'll go for the kill."
But before he could fire, Ollie burst in, boots slamming into the agent's ribs.
"Not very gentlemanly," Ollie grinned. "Attacking a lady from behind? Shame on you."
Eric's blade carved a path through the battlefield. He charges at a distracted Lopez.
Then—SHNK.
He froze.
Blood stained his shirt. But it wasn't his.
Williams stood before him, his blade embedded in his own side.
"…Milkshakes," he groaned, before collapsing.
Eric caught him, stunned. "No… No, no—"
"Oh shit!" said Eric, almost panicked. He started fleeing the scene.
"ERIC!!" someone yelled.
He looked up just in time to see an agent rushing him—Lopez, his eyes burning with rage.
Eric barely blocked, their swords clashing in a storm of sparks. The duel was brutal, swift.
Eric ducked, twisted—then slammed a boot into Lopez's head.
The agent crumpled.
Eric stood over him, panting.
"…Finally."
✦
Abandoned Warehouse – Night
Smoke curled from broken walls and bullet-scarred stone. Mila stood in the center of the wreckage, breathing heavily. Opposite her, Maya knelt—bruised, bloodied, but still defiant.
"It's over," Mila said coldly.
Maya grinned, blood trailing from her mouth.
"You sure about that?"
A sharp whistle pierced the air.
BOOM.
The wall exploded. Smoke swallowed the room.
When it cleared—Maya was gone.
Mila cursed and turned away.
The mission wasn't over yet.
A flare burst into the night sky.
Then—BOOM.
A blinding white light engulfed the battlefield.
Everyone shielded their eyes.
"Where the hell did the revolutionaries go?!" an agent shouted.
A beat.
Jeff spun around. "Check the entire compound! GO!"
Steven moved like a shadow through the ruined alleyways of District 7, his hood pulled low, breaths shallow and controlled. Ahead, Ollie walked with a hurried pace, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds—but not enough to spot the figure stalking him from the shadows.
You'd think a kid like him would be more careful if he was part of something this big, Steven thought, weaving through the rubble of abandoned buildings. The air smelled of rust and rain, with the night sky dimly lit by the glow of malfunctioning neon signs.
Ollie ducked into a narrow alley between two collapsed apartment blocks. Steven hesitated, waited for the sound of his footsteps to fade, then slipped in after him. The alley was tight, and every scuff of his boots against the debris echoed like gunshots in his ears.
He reached a metal staircase just in time to catch a glimpse of Ollie disappearing into a side entrance of a building that looked condemned from the outside—its windows boarded up, its walls scorched from past fires.
This must be it, Steven thought.
He waited, counting the seconds. Then he crept to the door Ollie had gone through. A faint orange light flickered from beneath it.
Steven reached for the handle.
"Stop right there."
Steven's heart dropped. He turned—
—but there was no one behind him.
What the hell? His grip tightened around the door handle.
And then—
A sharp pain exploded in the back of his head.
The world spun sideways. He stumbled forward, knees buckling.
Everything turned black.
✦
Underground Hideout
Steven's eyes fluttered open.
Pain crawled through his skull. His limbs were bound again—classic.
Blurred voices echoed in the background.
"Stop yelling at us," Kira snapped.
"You nearly got an agent on top of us!" Eric shouted.
"We screwed up," Ollie muttered. "Thanks for saving us, Eric."
Steven groaned. The room slowly came into focus. They were in a dark hideout—stone walls, flickering lights, and five silhouettes around him.
Mila. Ollie. Kira. Eric.
No sign of the Masked Menace.
Steven forced a smirk. "So. The revolutionaries up close."
Eric was tending to Mila's arm. Blood crusted over her temple.
"Welcome back, Agent," Eric said without looking at him. "You're surprisingly hard to kill."
"Why is he still alive?" Kira asked. "Kill him."
Steven ignored her. His gaze swept across the room. He kept his tone calm.
"You really want to kill an unarmed man? You haven't changed much."
He looked at each of them. Then, with quiet confidence:
"I know who you all are."
He pointed.
"Ollie Wright. Mila and Kira Malinovski. Eric Hoffmann."
They flinched.
Steven grinned. "How long did you really think you could hide?"
Then—
A whisper, inches from his ear.
"And what about me, Agent?"
Steven jolted.
The Masked Menace was behind him. Just—there. No sound. No presence. Like a phantom.
He hadn't even sensed him.
Steven's heart raced.
He twisted in his seat, but MM was already stepping around into the light. Masked. Unreadable.
Eric removed his own mask but gestured for the others to stay concealed.
The Masked Menace crouched before Steven, voice calm and quiet.
"You're not the reason we're here."
Steven narrowed his eyes.
"…Then what—"
A groan came from behind him.
Steven craned his neck—
And his blood ran cold.
Lopez.
Tied to another chair. Barely breathing. His head lolled to the side.
"…What…?"
Steven's voice cracked. "You—You brought him here?"
"He brought himself," the Masked Menace said darkly.
"No. He has nothing to do with this. Let him go."
A dark change passed through the Masked Menace.
"He has everything to do with this."
Steven's voice cracked. "I'm the one behind this mission. Not him."
"It's not about your mission," the Masked Menace said, voice low. "You think this started today?"
(Beat)
"You follow orders. That's your truth."
He stepped closer.
"But let me ask you something, Agent. Do you even know who you're following?"
Steven clenched his jaw.
"What are you talking about?"
The Masked Menace looked at Lopez.
"He'll die either way."
"Why…?" Steven whispered.
The Masked Menace turned toward him.
"You haven't figured it out yet."
Steven stared.
"…Who the hell are you?"
The room held its breath.
Then, the Masked Menace reached up.
Click.
He removed his mask.
The air froze.
Steven's eyes widened in disbelief.
Even Lopez stirred, blinking weakly—just enough to recognize the face.
"…No…" Steven whispered. "It can't be."
The man before him stared back, cold and unblinking.
Christian Reeves.
A silence longer than death.
Christian leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You still think you're the good guy, Agent?"