A month after that meeting with the Big Four's lieutenants, things had finally quieted down around the slums. For now, at least. After the encounter, Axion remained wary of any possible traps the gang might've laid for her, but it seemed they'd respected her conditions, even if the uneasy truce felt more like an unspoken agreement than a concrete rule.
She resumed her patrols, trying to maintain her routine, but so far, everything appeared to be business as usual. Things were, generally speaking, safe—as safe as a normal day in the slums could get, anyway.
In the meantime, Axion focused on helping people out where she could.
Ever since her power's range expanded to twenty meters, the number of things she could do with gravikinesis increased exponentially. She didn't need to be within arm's reach to move or lift objects now, and she found that she could manipulate multiple objects simultaneously with greater ease.
On top of that, she could control heavier objects at higher distances. It didn't take her as much effort to adjust to larger loads anymore. In fact, she found herself picking up and levitating things without really needing to concentrate. That, in turn, helped her conserve her energy and stamina.
During the times when she had to deal with thugs from small gangs or random street toughs, she didn't even need to beat them up to make them stop. She'd just casually make them float a few meters in the air and spin them around a few times until they threw up, which usually got the point across.
Slumshines liked to refer to this as her "broom technique." The name stuck, even among gangsters—probably because nobody could ever predict how and where they'd land. Most people didn't want to find out.
Right now, Axion stood atop a roof overlooking the streets below, scanning her surroundings. So far, no emergencies. A group of children chased one another through the winding pathways, laughing and yelling at each other playfully. Some adults lounged by fire barrels as they drank or played games, exchanging gossip and talking amongst themselves.
Yup. Just a normal day in the neighborhood.
Axion stretched her arms, flexing her fingers as she debated whether or not she should go somewhere else. It was boring standing still and doing nothing, and she wasn't hungry yet. Maybe she could practice her gravikinesis exercises instead, test her speed, or work on her endurance. Or maybe she should hang out with Quinn or Edith.
Decisions, decisions...
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Kasumi paced the warehouse floor, her footsteps echoing off the walls. She had been waiting for Salvatore's agents for over an hour, and the longer she waited, the angrier she became. Kasumi hated waiting; she preferred to be in control, and now, she had no control whatsoever. Salvatore had orchestrated the meeting, and Kasumi could only hope he didn't have ulterior motives.
Suddenly, the sound of the warehouse door sliding open reached her ears, and five Adrenomancers strode into the room.
Kasumi had encountered Adrenomancers before, but these five were unlike any she had seen.
The first was tall and broad-shouldered, with a harness crisscrossing his body. He had a confident stride, his fists clenched tightly as if ready for a fight.
The second was shorter, with wires snaking around his body and glowing blue lights embedded in his outfit. She could smell electricity crackling in the air around him, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as he passed.
The third Adrenomancer walked with a swagger, as if he owned the place, and he carried a stack of knives tucked into his belt. Kasumi noticed his hands were constantly moving, twitching and fidgeting with each other, like he was always on the verge of drawing a weapon.
The fourth Adrenomancer kept her distance, pacing several meters away from the others. She wore a mask with two brightly lit eyes that pierced the darkness of the room. The lenses flashed periodically, emitting a low hum. Kasumi sensed a deep unease in her gait; the woman moved as if she didn't want to be there, as if she didn't trust any of the others. Kasumi knew that feeling all too well.
The last Adrenomancer—who she assumed was their leader—strolled forward, a wide, confident smile spread across his face. He paused a few meters in front of Kasumi, his eyes locking with hers. Kasumi's body stiffened instinctively, her muscles tensing as she fought to suppress a surge of adrenaline.
"Nice to meet you, Cobra. The boss sends his regards and apologizes for his absence," the man said, his voice low and gruff. "Name's Havoc. We've heard a lot about you. Look forward to working together, so you better make a good impression. Otherwise...well, that's not for me to decide, right? That's on you."
Kasumi bristled at the remark, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Likewise," she spat. "I can't say I've heard much about you. Not that I've inquired, either, given the circumstances. Frankly, this arrangement is a necessary inconvenience. Nothing more."
Havoc chuckled. "Spicy, I like it. Alright, no chitchat. I'll introduce the others. First up's Raze." He jerked his thumb towards the burly Adrenomancer to his right, who glowered at Kasumi.
"Next is Voltaire," he continued, gesturing to the electric Adrenomancer who stood a short distance away. Voltaire ignored her, his gaze fixed on the ground. Havoc then pointed to the knife-wielding Adrenomancer to his left and announced, "That's Blitz."
Finally, Havoc gestured to the masked Adrenomancer hovering near the warehouse's entrance. "And lastly, that's Mirage." Mirage gave a curt nod in Kasumi's general direction, refusing to meet her eyes.
Kasumi scrutinized each Adrenomancer, sizing them up. Raze was undoubtedly the muscle. Blitz and Voltaire didn't seem all that impressive, although the former carried an ample arsenal of blades and gadgets. Mirage, however, gave Kasumi pause. Something felt off about the woman.
"Not much for formalities, are you?" Havoc remarked. "Whatever, makes my life easier. Let's skip the bullshit pleasantries, shall we?"
Kasumi folded her arms, drumming her fingertips against her bicep impatiently. "Get to the point. What does Salvatore want? Why gather a team of Adrenomancers? Aren't your kind better at running solo jobs?"
"True, we prefer operating on our own," Havoc admitted, cracking his knuckles. "Boss says differently this time. Apparently, this job requires a group, and he handpicked us specifically."
"What's the goal? Your boss refused to elaborate," Kasumi pressed. She needed more details to determine whether Salvatore intended to screw her over. Given his penchant for secrecy, the probability seemed likely. "Explain. Now. I won't repeat myself."
Havoc grunted, shrugging nonchalantly. "He wants to capture that Axion girl, and he wants us to bring her in alive."
He's still obsessed over her? Kasumi stifled a scoff.
Salvatore's fixation baffled her. Why would he continue wasting time and resources on someone who didn't pose a threat to whatever schemes he had planned with the Shiver as long as she remained ignorant? Sure, the bitch somehow caught wind of their drug deal that one time, but Kasumi had learned that the location had been compromised—the Neon Knights must have tipped Axion off.
"Her bounty had already been rescinded. Why the obsession?" Kasumi demanded, raising an eyebrow. "Salvatore's wasting his time. Focus on distributing the Shiver. That's what matters."
"Beats me. Since the other gangs don't wanna touch the bounty anymore, boss figured he might as well send us in, and frankly, I'm not complaining. Easy money."
Kasumi clenched her jaw. Salvatore must have something else up his sleeve, something he wasn't sharing. It pissed her off, but at the same time, she didn't particularly care about Axion. Sure, Kasumi did want to settle the score, but the bitch wasn't a priority.
"She'll be your problem then. The Neon Vipers will stick with keeping this warehouse secure and distributing the Shiver," Kasumi declared coolly, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. "Good luck tracking Axion down. Hope you Adrenomancers are competent."
"Easy-peasy." Havoc grinned wolfishly, his teeth glistening in the dim light. "By the end of the week, we'll have the little Super wrapped around our fingers, nice and docile, guaranteed."
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Axion yawned, stretching her arms and rotating her shoulders as she continued her brisk walk. So far, so uneventful. No emergencies, no disturbances, no calls for help. Hell, she had barely witnessed a single fight or disagreement, aside from the usual petty squabbles.
Maybe today would be a lazy day. She could probably sit and relax, watch the crowds and clouds go by.
Man, I'm bored.
"Yo, Axion."
Speaking of the crowds...
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
"Kenzo! Hey!"
Axion waved enthusiastically, jogging over to greet the musician. Kenzo returned her greeting with a friendly smile, tucking his headphones around his neck. Unlike his usual hip-hop outfits, today he dressed relatively plainly: a simple pair of jeans and a hoodie, the latter zipped halfway. A few of his bandmates lingered behind, idling in the background.
Kenzo leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Listen, I have a favor to ask. Mind if we talk somewhere private?"
"Yeah, sure, no problem. What's up?" Axion tilted her head curiously. She hadn't interacted with Kenzo in a while, so this came as a surprise. Did he need help delivering a music demo or something? Oh! Maybe he wanted her opinion on a new song. Music was the last subject Axion considered herself an expert in, but Kenzo wouldn't pick her brain randomly.
Would he? Hmm. Probably not.
"Follow me," Kenzo replied cryptically. Without further explanation, he sauntered away, waving at his bandmates to indicate he'd be back. Axion glanced over her shoulder, debating briefly before jogging after him.
Kenzo led her further down the road, past rows of dilapidated, ramshackle homes. The crowded bustle gradually faded, and Axion's curiosity grew the farther they went.
Eventually, Kenzo turned a corner, veering into an abandoned, overgrown alley. Overhead, a series of electrical cables and pipes ran parallel to the uneven, crumbling brick walls. Trash and debris littered the ground, and broken windows stared emptily from the rundown structures looming overhead.
Axion had patrolled this area countless times, but she rarely ventured down any alleys or side passages. Most were dead ends or trap locations, and she had no reason to wander into a potential ambush.
At last, Kenzo stopped, leaning against a rusty, dented dumpster. He took a slow, deep breath and exhaled, scratching the back of his neck.
"So, uh, sorry for calling you out here," he began awkwardly. "But I gotta ask. I heard from Virgil that you fought someone named 'Cobra' a while ago, right?"
The LED eyes on Axion's helmet blinked rapidly.
Huh? Now that was a question she wasn't expecting. If he had already talked with Virgil about it, then why did Kenzo ask her directly? Oh, right, she was the only one who fought her. Made sense.
"Uh, yeah. I did." Axion shifted her weight, recalling their encounter. She hadn't spared Cobra a second thought since their fight. Well, that wasn't quite true. She kinda lucked out in the end because she was underestimated. It motivated her to train harder and use her powers in more creative ways. Other than that, Cobra hadn't crossed her mind. "Why?"
Where was he going with this?
Kenzo scratched the stubble along his chin, frowning. "What...do you think of her? Like, as a person."
"Well, um..." Axion trailed off, considering her words. Where was Kenzo going with this? She didn't hate her opponent, per se, but Cobra had nearly killed her, so...yeah, she disliked her.
"I dunno. She's, er, tough. Strong. Fast, too. And, uhhh, slippery. Yeah, slippery. But she's dangerous, and she tried to kill me, sooooo, yeah, I'd say I don't like her." Axion shrugged, tapping her index fingers together. "Why? Did Cobra do something bad to you?"
"No, no, nothing like that," Kenzo clarified, sighing heavily. "It's just...I've heard a lot about her, and I was curious. She's a hot topic lately. Uh, in the underground circles, that is. Sorry, I didn't mean to weird you out."
"Ah, okay." Axion nodded. Wait, no, not really. Cobra was a hot topic? Underground circles? What the hell? "But, um, why is Cobra a hot topic, exactly? Last time we fought, she was with the Neon Vipers, and they're a minor gang compared to the Big Four."
"Right, but remember...Virgil said that they're working with the Mad Chemist," Kenzo reminded her. "Cobra's part of his crew now. When we eventually have to deal with him, we may have to deal with her, too."
"Oh. Right." Axion grimaced, chewing the inside of her cheek.
Virgil said that he'd handle investigating Salvatore's movements. Axion hadn't asked for details, figuring he was better at gathering intel than her. Plus she had to lay low for a bit until the bounty was off her back.
If she had to face off against Cobra again, things would be much, much different. She was confident that Cobra wouldn't pose much of a challenge this time.
Kenzo cleared his throat. "Anyway, enough about her. How are you holding up nowadays?"
Axion brightened immediately, smiling behind her helmet. "I'm great! Doing lots of patrols, helping folks out, breaking fights apart. Same old, same old. How are things with you and the band?"
"Same," Kenzo answered, returning her infectious enthusiasm with a grin. "Writing new songs, practicing, scouting venues, y'know. All the fun, mundane stuff."
Axion nodded enthusiastically, eager to chat. Kenzo mentioned a new song, didn't he? Should she ask? Would that be awkward, though? Ugh. What to say, what to say...
"Cool, cool. Um, hey, quick question. Is the new song a, um, hip-hop tune, or...?
The two spent a leisurely hour catching up. Kenzo told her about the band's latest gig, the new venue they'd secured, and the concept album they were working on. Axion listened intently, interjecting with excited commentary whenever possible. Eventually, Kenzo's bandmates called for him, and the pair parted ways amicably, Axion promising she'd attend the band's next concert.
Afterward, she resumed her patrol, energized and optimistic. She bounced on the balls of her heels, humming an unfamiliar melody—one Kenzo had described during their conversation.
Maybe today wasn't so boring, after all.
However, her cheerful mood dissipated as the sound of an explosion resounded in the distance. Axion whirled, her eyes widening in alarm. Flames licked the skies, and a column of dark smoke billowed upward, rising over the rooftops.
Where'd it come from?
The Rust Market.
...shit.
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Thirty minutes ago...
The early morning light barely pierced the smog that clung to the slums like a second skin, casting an ethereal glow on the dilapidated building where the Adrenomancers convened. Within its crumbling walls, the five figures huddled around a flickering holoscreen.
Salvatore's face, if it could be called that, shimmered into focus on the screen, his features obscured by layers of digital distortion—a necessary precaution for a man as notoriously paranoid as the Mad Chemist.
"Good," a digitized rasp hissed from the screen. "You're assembled."
Havoc sneered, leaning back in his chair and propping his boots on the table. "'Bout time you checked in. Been waiting on your signal, boss."
Voltaire rolled his eyes, arms folded tightly across his chest. Raze gnawed absentmindedly on his lower lip, staring vacantly into space. Blitz and Mirage maintained a safe, respectful distance from each other, neither acknowledging the other's presence.
Salvatore's distorted countenance narrowed, the static blurring his expression into an ominous scowl. "Certain arrangements required...special attention. Details unnecessary, irrelevant."
"Whatever," Havoc muttered, rolling his wrist dismissively. "Let's get this show on the road. I'm tired of wasting time sitting around and twiddling my thumbs. My ass hurts from doing jack shit. We good to catch that Axion-chick now or what?"
Blitz snorted quietly, adjusting the buckles on his gloves. Mirage glanced away, visibly annoyed. Voltaire groaned, burying his head in his hands. Only Raze paid Havoc's antics no heed, his vacant gaze remaining fixed on the opposite wall.
Salvatore ignored Havoc, addressing the entire team. "Capture Axion at your discretion, but ensure she is brought in intact. Do not play around and prolong the mission. She is associated with Backfire, and if he manages to interfere, you all are as good as dead."
"Boss, you think so little of us that you doubt our capabilities against Backfire?" Havoc retorted, feigning offense. "Ouch. Seriously, give us some credit. Besides, ain't he a washed-up, has-been vigilante nowadays? What's the worst he can throw at us? Empty magazines, maybe?"
Mirage and Voltaire exchanged exasperated glances, both shaking their heads in resigned disbelief. Blitz and Raze remained quiet, the former fiddling with the holstered pistols at his waist and the latter muttering incoherently under his breath.
"Your hubris will be your undoing, Havoc, but so be it," Salvatore warned, his voice crackling. "Proceed. Report your success when the task is completed, and do not disappoint me."
With a flourish, the Mad Chemist ended the transmission. The holoscreen winked out, plunging the room into semi-darkness once again.
Havoc let out a dry, derisive cackle. "'Hubris,'" he repeated, mimicking Salvatore's electronic croak. "Can you believe that guy? Talkin' like we're greenhorns."
Blitz shrugged, slipping his guns back into their holsters. "Eh. Salvatore has his reasons, I guess. Backfire used to be the boogeyman, and the rumors surrounding his fall paint a concerning picture."
"Boogeyman. Pfft," Havoc scoffed, flapping his wrist. "Those rumors are total BS. People exaggerate. Always have, always will. It's not like we'll be up against the Ultimate Guardians or somethin'."
Voltaire raised his eyebrows, unfolding his arms and drumming his fingers against the tabletop. "Actually, I heard Backfire tangled with a few of their members back in the day—and won. Also heard that one of the reasons why he got exiled from the Metropolis was that he let himself get captured. By the Ultimate Guardians. On purpose."
Havoc waved his hand dismissively, clicking his tongue. "Whatever, dude. You're talkin' a load of crap. Backfire's not invincible. Nobody's invincible. Anyway, we done blabbering? Ready to catch us a supherhero?"
"About time," Voltaire grumbled, standing and pushing his chair away. Blitz and Mirage offered wordless nods of agreement, the former flexing his arms and the latter inspecting her blades. Raze merely grunted, cracking his knuckles and popping his neck.
"Alright," Havoc drawled, hopping to his feet and stretching. "Let's split. Remember the gameplan, keep her contained within the market. We don't have the details on what her power is, exactly, but from the limited intel we got, she's got some sort of off-brand telekinesis. Watch for flying trash and junk, basically."
"Question," Blitz interjected, raising his hand. Havoc shot him an irritated glance, folding his arms. "How do we engage her? Just jump her, guns blazing, or...?"
Havoc paused, rubbing his chin. After a moment, he answered, "Nah, let's lure her in first. See what plays out. Stick to the plan."
"You're saying it's off-brand, but ain't telekinesis a big deal?" Voltaire asked, scratching the back of his neck. "I mean, the leader of the Ultimate Guardians is the only one with that power, and he's, well...basically a god compared to other Metahumans."
Havoc shrugged, reaching into his jacket pocket. "Dunno. Salvatore didn't have a ton to share, except a few recordings and a description of the chick's costume. Besides, the report said that she barely won against Cobra. So, eh. Hardly a threat."
"Hmm," Voltaire hummed, unconvinced.
"Don't sweat the details," Havoc ordered, withdrawing a cigarette from his pocket. He placed the butt between his lips, lighting the tip and inhaling. Smoke curled lazily in the stale air as Havoc exhaled, a smug grin playing across his features. "Let's wrap this job ASAP. We only got a few more years left in the tank, and I don't wanna spend more time in this junk pile of a city than I gotta."
"Understood," Mirage responded, her mechanical mask's eyes flaring as she adjusted a dial on her wrist. Raze and Blitz voiced their assent, while Voltaire nodded half-heartedly.
Havoc puffed on his cigarette, studying the swirling tendrils of smoke. After a moment, he motioned toward the exit, and the Adrenomancers filed out the door. Havoc hung back, stubbing his cigarette out in the dingy, cracked sink, before striding after the others.
"Time to bag ourselves an Axion."