The city screamed.

Black smoke shattered the twilight, clawing toward the heavens. Buildings collapsed under their own heat, glass bursting outward in violent shatters. The air reeked of scorched metal and burning flesh.

Screams. Sirens. Gunfire.

None of it was loud enough to drown out the voice that rumbled through the inferno.

“I am the Fiend.”

He stepped through the wall of fire, his jagged grin glowing in the embers. His gray, beast-like face was half-obscured by the heat haze, but his eyes burned through it, filled with something deeper than rage.

“I am the Flame,” he growled, molten footprints hissing into the asphalt. “And I will burn this rotten world to cinders.”

Then, he breathed.

A colossal wave of fire erupted from his mouth, melting the facade of a nearby building.

The two officers didn’t even have time to scream.

A wall of fire swallowed the squad car whole. Metal twisted, glass melted, and the air turned to searing death. The heat was unbearable, suffocating—like the city itself had turned against them.

One officer’s radio crackled desperately as he shielded his face.

“—All units, we need—”

Too late.

Fiend exhaled again.

The flames surged. The first officer collapsed to the pavement, choking on the very air. His partner barely managed to drag him behind cover, eyes wide with helpless terror.

“We need the Special Officer—now!”

The other officer aimed his pistol at Fiend. The bullet melted midair under a sudden wave of scorching flames.

Fiend advanced, inhaling deeply as another inferno swelled inside him.

Then—the air changed.

A shift in pressure. A fraction of a second where everything felt wrong.

Fiend’s grin faltered.

The embers around them stopped mid-air. The suffocating smoke paused, caught in a moment that should not exist.

Then—a single footstep.

From the haze, a silhouette emerged.

Black dreadlocks peppered with gray. Unshaken. Unburned. Unbothered.

Special Officer Khem.

Fiend’s grin twisted into a snarl.

“Hinpa.” His molten teeth gleamed. “Lucky me.”

Fiend sneered as Khem lunged. “Everything you touch stops moving, right? Shame you can’t touch me.”

With that, Fiend threw his arms wide, flames erupting from his body in a violent blaze, engulfing himself completely in a swirling inferno. The fire roared around him, a living barrier of heat and death.

"Let’s see you try now!"

Then—Khem moved.

Effortlessly, without hesitation, he lunged straight into the inferno. The moment his hand reached the fire, the flames froze mid-motion, hanging in the air like a shattered illusion. Fiend's confident grin twisted into shock as he dodged—just by a hair—feeling the unnatural stillness brush past his chest.

Fiend's breath hitched. Impossible.

It wasn’t.

Khem had seen criminals like him before—men who thought their powers made them untouchable. That the world owed them something.

Fiend’s sneer wavered, but his fury burned hotter. He inhaled sharply, expelling another burst of fire—bigger, hotter, desperate.

The air shimmered. The streets glowed red-hot beneath him. His own breath burned his throat.

Still, Khem stood there.

Unscathed. Unbothered. Unstoppable.

Fiend’s body betrayed him. His flames, once his greatest weapon, turned against him. The oxygen vanished faster than he could draw breath. His muscles ached, fatigue creeping in. His vision wavered, the edges of the world flickering as dizziness clawed at his mind. Heat swirled around him, but his limbs felt heavy, sluggish—his strength burning away with every second. His own fire was killing him.

His molten breath seared his throat. His vision blurred. Desperation clawed at him, and with a final, furious effort, he inhaled deeply and breathed out an even greater inferno—aimed directly at Khem.

Yet Khem remained untouched.

Unmoving. Watching.

Like a monument to something Fiend could never break.

“HOW?!” Fiend’s roar cracked the air. “Don’t mock me! My fire—my hatred—burns for every human who ever treated me like a beast! You can’t stop that!”

Khem didn’t blink.

Then—he moved.

A single step. A single touch.

And Fiend stopped.

The two officers behind cover finally breathed.

One whispered, “He… he actually did it.”

Khem let go.

Fiend collapsed onto the charred pavement like a toppled statue.

His teeth were still bared mid-snarl. His eyes, unblinking, held a glint of firelight—a flame forever trapped.

His clawed fingers remained outstretched, as if still trying to grasp the fire that had already left him behind.

Even in defeat, he remained a man consumed by fire.

Khem watched him for a brief moment, unreadable.

Then, without another word, he turned away.

The mission was over.

The officers stood frozen in shock.

One swallowed hard. “That was… unreal.”

Khem turned to them, voice level. “Are you both okay?”

They nodded—quick, jittery movements, their bodies catching up to what had just happened.

Then—static crackled from their radios.

A new voice, urgent, shaken.

“All units, be advised—high-priority escapees are loose.”

The atmosphere shifted. The heat from the fires felt colder now.

Khem didn’t react outwardly. But his grip on his communicator tightened.

His device buzzed again. This time, the voice on the other end carried a sharper weight.

“Hinpa.”

Brave.

Khem lifted the communicator. “I’m here.”

“Are you still on the scene?”

“Just finished.”

A pause. Then, direct words:

“Change of plans. We have a situation.”

Khem’s eyes flickered toward the wreckage around him but remained silent.

“The maximum-security prison, Blackout Fortress, was breached tonight. We’ve contained most of the escapees, but five of the highest-priority inmates are still loose.”

That confirmed it. Whoever was behind this knew exactly what they were doing.

“You’re being reassigned,” Brave continued. “Effective immediately, you’re leading a special task force. Your job is to hunt down these five before they disappear for good.”

Khem absorbed the information without hesitation. “Understood.”

“Head back to HQ. You’ll meet your first teammate there.”

Khem turned off the communicator. Five high-risk criminals loose meant five chances for disaster. Another failure like this wasn’t an option.

And Khem didn’t fail.

He stepped over Fiend’s unconscious body and headed toward his next mission.

The Special Officer Force Headquarters loomed ahead, an imposing fortress of steel and glass, its curved brim unmistakably shaped like an officer’s hat. To an outsider, it might have looked ridiculous; to those who worked inside, it was a symbol of law and order.

Khem strode toward the entrance, his boots echoing against the polished stone. Inside, officers and analysts bustled, data screens flashing urgent reports about the prison break. The tension was thick—no one took a mass escape lightly.

Another officer was waiting for him just past security, a familiar face but not Brave. “Took you long enough.”

Khem raised an eyebrow. 'Where’s Brave? I came straight here.”

The officer smirked. “Brave’s stationed at the prison, you know that. He just relayed the orders. You're about to meet your first teammate. Try not to scare them off.”

Khem didn’t respond. He followed the officer down the hall, already preparing for whatever came next.

They reached a conference room, its glass walls dimmed for privacy. The conference room’s glass walls dimmed as Khem stepped inside.

A man was already waiting for him.

Not Brave.

Someone else.

He was sprawled in the chair, legs kicked up, arms folded behind his head, spinning a bullet between his fingers.

The moment he saw Khem, he flicked the bullet straight at him.

Khem caught it. Instinct.

Weird smirked. “Good reflexes.”

The officer beside them sighed. “Khem, meet Weird. Your first teammate.”

Weird grinned, slow and lazy. “Oh, we’re gonna have fun.”

Khem didn’t react to Weird’s smirk, nor to the casual way he sprawled in his chair like this was just another day. It wasn’t. Five high-priority escapees were loose. Time wasn’t a luxury they had.

Weird stretched, lacing his fingers behind his head. “So, you’re the guy they stuck me with, huh? I was expecting someone… taller.”

Khem ignored the jab. He turned to the officer who had escorted him. “What’s his ability?”

Weird clicked his tongue, feigning offense. “No small talk? No ‘Hey Weird, great to meet you. Let’s go stop some criminals?’ Cold, man.”

The officer exhaled sharply. “Weird—codename ‘Reflex.’ Kinetic and ability redirection. Any force or power applied to him gets reflected back.”

Khem studied Weird, unimpressed. “An auto-defense mechanism.”

“See, now that’s a little reductive.” Weird grinned. “I prefer ‘strategically untouchable.’ You punch me? You break your hand. You shoot me? Bullet’s comin’ back. And if you try to fry me with lightning, guess who’s getting zapped?”

Khem remained expressionless, but inwardly, he acknowledged the tactical value. Weird wasn’t just immune to attacks—he weaponized them.

Still, reflexive abilities had limits. “What happens when you’re overwhelmed?”

Weird smirked. “Wouldn’t know. Nobody’s lived long enough to see me reach that point.”

Khem didn’t have time for theatrics. “We have five escapees to track. Have you been briefed?”

Weird groaned. “Barely. Just got here an hour ago, and the eggheads upstairs are still scrambling to piece together what went wrong.” He gestured toward the holo-screen mounted on the conference room wall. “But we do have a list.”

Khem turned to the screen as it flickered on. Five images appeared—five profiles with red alerts flashing beneath them. Each one more dangerous than the last.

Weird tapped one with his knuckle. “You’re gonna love this. Our first target? Methodic.”

Khem’s jaw tightened slightly. Methodic. Codename: Minuteur. A high-level time manipulator. One of the most dangerous individuals ever locked away.

“Fantastic,” Khem said flatly.

Weird whistled. “Oof, you’re really feeling the enthusiasm, huh? Can’t wait to chase a guy who can literally skip through time.”

Khem’s gaze remained on the screen. “Where was he last seen?”

The officer pulled up a map. “That’s where things get interesting. An hour after the breakout, security picked up an encrypted message on the dark net.” He tapped the screen, and the text appeared:

"One year free. Enjoy your last hours, brother."

Weird let out a low whistle. “Damn. He really just went straight for the throat, huh?”

Khem’s eyes narrowed. This wasn’t a vague taunt. This was personal. A message meant only for Noble—a reminder that Methodic never forgot, never forgave.

The officer continued, “The timing isn’t a coincidence. Noble’s ‘One Year Free of That Monster’ celebration is tonight. If Methodic wanted to send a message, he just did.”

Weird leaned back. “So, best-case scenario, this guy’s just playing psychological warfare and wants his brother to piss his pants in his shiny skyscraper. Worst-case scenario?”

Khem’s jaw tightened. Worst-case scenario? Noble doesn’t make it out.

“We assume Methodic will be there in person,” Khem said. “He’s not the type to leave things unfinished.”

Weird smirked. “Yeah. Something tells me a guy with time powers doesn’t believe in ‘letting things go.’”

Khem ignored the remark, already running through possible approaches. If Methodic was inside already, tracking him would be a nightmare. If he was still en route, they might be able to cut him off. Either way, Noble’s security wasn’t ready for this.

“We move now,” Khem ordered.

Weird stretched. “Time to go play bodyguard for the world’s pettiest billionaire. Let’s roll.”

The air buzzed with energy as Khem and Weird stepped out of their vehicle near the towering Noble Skyscraper, a monolithic structure bathed in golden lighting, an arrogant symbol of its owner’s wealth. The entrance was swarming with high-profile guests, private security, and corporate elites, all blissfully unaware that a man who could manipulate time was coming for their host.

Weird shoved his hands in his pockets, taking in the scene. “Alright, first impressions? Place screams ‘overcompensation.’”

Khem ignored the comment. His focus was already on the security perimeter—dozens of armed, non-powered guards lined the entrances, their earpieces buzzing with chatter. No sign of powered reinforcements.

He turned to Weird. “You see a flaw?”

Weird scanned the scene, smirking. “Yeah. They’re all watching the doors.”

Khem nodded. If Methodic was already inside, none of this mattered. The guards were watching for intruders, but time didn’t work the same way for their target. Methodic could have walked in the moment they arrived—or an hour ago.

“Any plan that doesn’t involve waiting for this place to explode?” Weird asked.

Khem’s mind was already cycling through entry points, chokepoints, and movement patterns. “We get inside, find Noble, and establish visual confirmation.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Weird grinned. “Cool, but—” He gestured to the velvet-rope guest line, filled with the city’s wealthiest socialites. “You think they’re just gonna let us waltz in?”

Khem adjusted his gloves. “We don’t use the front entrance.”

Weird followed as Khem led him toward the building’s exterior gardens, away from the bustling party entrance.

Weird frowned. “Unless you’re about to tell me you know a secret VIP entrance, we’re running out of doors.”

Khem crouched low, running his fingers across the rough stone path. Without hesitation, he picked up a loose rock, tossed it lightly into the air—then tapped it with two fingers.

The stone froze mid-flight.

Weird’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh, that’s fancy.”

Khem grabbed another. Toss. Tap. Freeze.

A second stone hovered just above the first, forming a step.

One by one, he repeated the process, stacking them into an impossible staircase leading up to the maintenance balcony several stories above.

Weird exhaled in amusement. “You know, normal people use doors.”

Khem stepped onto the first rock without responding, his movements crisp, fluid—unshaken by the unnatural physics beneath his feet.

Weird shrugged. “Alright, alright. Let’s crash this party.” He followed, balancing on the floating stones with surprising ease.

The floating stone staircase held firm under Khem’s boots as he ascended toward the Noble Skyscraper’s open maintenance balcony. Below, the city's neon glow reflected off the glass windows, but Khem didn't have time to admire the view.

Weird followed, balancing with ease. "Y'know, this is way cooler than sneaking in the front. You do custom stairs for all your missions, or just the special ones?"

Khem ignored him. The moment they stepped onto the balcony, the air inside felt... wrong.

The dimly lit service corridor stretched ahead, leading to an emergency stairwell at the far end. The faint scent of disinfectant and machine oil lingered in the air—this was a space meant for employees and maintenance crews, not high-profile guests.

They moved quickly, feet silent against the floor. Khem reached the stairwell door first and pulled it open—

And then everything slowed.

The instant the door swung inward, the staircase beyond seemed to grind to a crawl. Each step ahead of them moved sluggishly, as if reality itself had been put into slow motion. Dust particles hung in the air, frozen mid-drift. The fluorescent lights above flickered at a fraction of their normal speed, making the entire stairwell look warped and unnatural.

Weird blinked. “Yeah, that’s not how stairs work.”

Khem took a step forward, testing the distortion. His boot pressed into solid ground, but the moment he shifted his weight, his movement became delayed, like he was walking through thick molasses.

Time stall. Methodic had already rigged the stairwell, slowing down everything inside it to a near standstill.

Khem pulled back immediately, slamming the door shut. The moment it closed, the corridor snapped back to normal, as if nothing had happened.

Weird let out a slow exhale. “Sooooo… elevator, then?”

Khem didn’t respond. He was already heading for it.

Weird groaned as he followed. “I hate when I’m right.”

The elevator hummed softly as it ascended toward the penthouse.

Khem leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. Beside him, Weird tapped his fingers rhythmically against the elevator panel.

“So,” Weird drawled, “what’s the plan? And please don’t say ‘win’—I need specifics.”

“Win efficiently,” Khem replied flatly.

Weird groaned. “Fantastic. We are so prepared.”

The lights above flickered.

Then, the world lurched.

The elevator jerked violently to a stop between floors. Gravity twisted—just long enough for Khem’s boots to lift an inch off the ground—before slamming back down.

Weird caught himself against the railing, eyes darting up. “Oh, come on. This is such a cliché.”

The air inside the elevator felt off. The buttons on the panel flickered intermittently, their numbers jittering slightly but never fully glitching. The overhead light dimmed for a moment before returning to its usual brightness.*

Khem’s expression didn’t shift. He reached for the emergency hatch at the ceiling.

“Options?” Weird asked, adjusting his gloves.

Khem exhaled, keeping his voice steady. "Securing Noble comes first. Methodic is focused on him, not us. If we get to Noble before he does, we control the situation."

Weird arched a brow. "And then what? Capture the time-guy mid-monologue?"

Khem nodded. "Exactly. If we try to take him first, we play into his game. We need to cut off his advantage."

The elevator lurched downward. Not a controlled descent—a freefall. The elevator wasn’t just malfunctioning—someone had tampered with its safety mechanisms, forcing a freefall.

Khem’s body lifted slightly off the floor for a fraction of a second before he reacted.

He pressed both palms against the metal walls. Freeze.

A surge of stillness expanded outward from his touch. The entire elevator froze in time, locked mid-air. The flickering lights, the shifting floor—everything stopped.

Weird landed on his feet, blinking. “Okay, that was cool. Now what?”

Khem reached up and forced his fingers between the doors. With the entire structure frozen, no further tampering could interfere.

Weird caught on instantly and pressed his hands against the opposite side. “Oh, we’re just muscling out of this? I like it.”

Together, they forced the doors apart, revealing a maintenance crawlspace between floors.

Khem gestured forward. “Go.”

Weird grinned, swinging himself through the gap. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Khem followed, pulling himself into the open space as the frozen elevator remained suspended behind them. Whoever had sabotaged the elevator had lost this round.

They were coming for him next.

Navigating through the maintenance halls, Khem and Weird moved swiftly. It didn’t take long before they found Noble, pacing anxiously in his penthouse suite, surrounded by a few terrified bodyguards.

The man looked up at them with a mixture of relief and arrogance. “Finally! About time someone showed up!”

Weird smirked. “Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome.”

Khem cut straight to the point. “We’re setting a trap.”

Noble raised an eyebrow. “A trap? For him?”

Weird nodded. “Yup. He thinks he’s in control, but if we play this right, we flip the script.”

Khem turned to the room, scanning the layout. “We make it look like you’re vulnerable. He’ll come for you personally.”

Weird grinned. “And when he does—bam, game over.”

Noble scoffed, straightening his suit. “I don’t like being bait.”

Khem’s gaze was cold. “You don’t have a choice.”

Khem and Weird quickly rearranged the penthouse to sell the illusion of vulnerability. They ordered Noble’s bodyguards to scatter, leaving him seemingly defenseless in the center of the room.

Weird smirked as he adjusted a chair, making it look as if Noble had been backed into a corner. But instead of cracking another joke, he exhaled sharply and looked toward Khem. "You sure about this? If he figures it out too soon, we’re the ones getting cornered."

Khem gave a slight nod. "He’s too focused on Noble. He’ll commit before he questions it."

Weird’s usual grin faded slightly, replaced with something more measured. "Alright. Just making sure we’re ready to hit hard when the time comes."

Khem positioned himself in the shadows near the entrance while Weird took cover by the bar, keeping a direct line of sight on Noble.

Weird whispered through the earpiece. “Now we wait.”

Noble swallowed hard. “This better work.”

A distant click echoed through the room.

Khem’s eyes narrowed. He’s here.

A flicker of movement—too fast to be normal.

Noble barely had time to react before Methodic accelerated himself, covering the distance in an instant. One moment, he was across the room; the next, he was standing directly beside Noble, his hand inches from his target’s throat.

Time snapped back into normal flow. The only sound was Noble’s sharp intake of breath as he realized just how close he was to dying.

Khem and Weird moved instantly.

Khem lunged from the shadows, closing the distance in a single motion. His gloved hand shot toward Methodic’s arm, aiming to lock him in stasis before he could react.

At the same time, Weird vaulted over the bar, flicking a serving tray with a sharp kick. The metal disc spun through the air like a projectile, aimed straight for Methodic’s head.

Methodic’s eyes flickered in recognition. He twisted, narrowly avoiding Khem’s grasp—but in doing so, he put himself directly in the tray’s path.

CRACK.

The tray slammed against the side of his face, sending him staggering sideways. It wasn’t enough to take him down, but it was enough to disrupt his timing.

Methodic recovered fast.

His foot skidded slightly against the floor, but instead of stumbling, he used the momentum to spin away. His body flickered—an instant acceleration.

One second he was staggering; the next, he had cleared ten feet of distance. Too fast.

Weird barely had time to react before Methodic countered. He swung a hand outward, and the air warped subtly around it—accelerating the serving tray mid-flight.

It shot past Khem and Weird like a bullet, embedding itself deep into the opposite wall with a metallic clang, leaving a deep dent in the reinforced steel.

Khem shifted his stance immediately, planting his boots firmly against the marble floor, bracing for Methodic’s next burst of speed. He wasn’t going to win this by reacting. Methodic had full control of his own speed, and he was using it masterfully to stay ahead of them.

Weird clicked his tongue. "Yeah, okay, this guy’s a problem. And we’re about to make him an even bigger one."

Methodic smirked. "You're just figuring that out? I expected more."

Before the last syllable left his mouth, Khem and Weird launched their full offensive.

Khem closed the gap instantly, his body a blur as he lunged forward, hand outstretched for Methodic's arm—a direct attempt to freeze him solid.

Weird, always unpredictable, went low. He grabbed a bottle from the bar and flung it at Methodic’s feet. The glass shattered on impact, sending shards and alcohol spraying in every direction.

Methodic moved to dodge, but that was the trap. Khem anticipated his evasion, adjusting mid-strike. Methodic twisted at the last possible instant, avoiding the touch by the width of a fingernail.

The rush of air between them sent a sharp chill through Methodic’s sleeve, but there was no contact. No freeze. He had dodged it by the smallest fraction of an inch.

Methodic jerked away, his acceleration kicking in, narrowly avoiding complete immobilization. If Khem’s fingertips had made full contact, it would’ve been over instantly. Methodic’s breath hitched—he had played with fractions of time before, but this was different. Absolute. No spread, no delay. One touch, and he was finished. He wouldn’t get another warning.

Even though he had dodged, his pulse spiked. He had underestimated Khem. This wasn’t just a fight of speed—it was a fight of precision.

Weird laughed. "Hey, man, don’t run—it's just getting fun!" He dashed in from the side, aiming a kick for Methodic’s ribs.

Methodic flicked his fingers, propelling himself backward just in time to evade the attack. His speed kept him ahead—barely—but the fight was getting tighter, each close call narrowing his advantage.

Khem wasn’t going to let him recover. He lunged again—this time, pressing Methodic harder than before.

But Methodic was already shifting tactics.

Instead of relying solely on acceleration, he changed his movement pattern entirely. Instead of sprinting in a straight line, he zigzagged in bursts—rapid, unpredictable shifts in speed and direction. One second he was in front of Khem, the next he had cut diagonally across the room, forcing both Khem and Weird to adjust mid-strike.

Weird cursed. "Oh, now he’s being annoying."

Methodic’s smirk returned, his confidence flickering back into place. "Speed isn't just about moving fast—it's about moving when you don’t expect it."

Khem didn’t answer. His eyes tracked Methodic’s pattern, analyzing the rhythm beneath the erratic dodges. He wasn’t just speeding up—he was setting them up for a counter.

A second too late, he realized Methodic’s real target: Weird.

A burst of acceleration, sharper than before, sent Methodic straight at Weird with no hesitation.

Weird grinned, shifting his stance fluidly as Methodic closed in. "Oh, finally—thought you'd never pick me."

"Do something!" Noble’s panicked voice rang out from the corner, his usual arrogance crumbling into desperation.

But Methodic wasn’t aiming to strike—not yet.

Instead, he slammed his foot into the floor beneath them and time itself twisted. The entire surface beneath their feet accelerated into decay, the once polished marble floor cracking and crumbling into dust.

The ground beneath them gave way, sending debris and shattered tiles cascading downward.

Khem reacted instantly. He slammed his hand against the crumbling surface. Freeze.

A wave of absolute stillness rushed outward, locking the collapsing floor in place. The crumbling debris halted mid-collapse, as if time itself had snapped to a stop. Shattered tiles and dust particles hung in the air, caught in an instant of frozen suspension.

Weird landed lightly on a section of the now-frozen floor, giving an approving nod. "Alright, that’s one way to clean up a mess."

Methodic’s smirk faltered slightly. The battlefield was no longer shifting in his favor.

His eyes flickered toward Noble.

With a sudden burst of acceleration, he redirected his momentum, shifting his focus entirely. One moment he was engaged with Khem and Weird—the next, he was right in front of Noble, standing just inches from him.

Noble stumbled back, pressing himself against the nearest wall, terror flashing in his eyes. "Wait—hold on—let’s talk about this!"

Methodic’s smirk returned, sharper than before. "No more talking."

Just as he reached for Noble, Khem and Weird moved simultaneously.

Khem crossed the space in an instant, boots grinding against the frozen debris as he lunged for Methodic’s side, hand outstretched for direct contact.

Weird, ever unpredictable, vaulted over a toppled chair, closing in from the opposite angle. His eyes gleamed with excitement, not fear. "Hey, buddy—mind picking on someone who fights back?"

But before either of them could make contact, Noble—in full-blown panic mode—made a move of his own.

With a wild, desperate swing, he grabbed a heavy sculpture from a nearby stand and hurled it at Methodic.

It was a terrible throw.

The statue tumbled awkwardly, barely making it halfway to its target before smashing onto the frozen floor. But it did something neither Khem nor Weird expected—it forced Methodic to hesitate.

For the first time, Methodic was thrown off by something completely irrational. He had accounted for speed, precision, and reaction time—but not Noble’s panicked, chaotic response.

That single moment was enough.

But Weird was already moving.

His hand shot forward—just a hair from contact.

Weird, seeing the opportunity, acted in an instant. He twisted mid-air, launching himself off the frozen debris with a burst of momentum. His boot smashed into Methodic’s side with pinpoint accuracy, sending the time-warping fighter staggering off-balance.

Methodic's focus shattered for a split second—and Khem struck.

His hand clamped onto Methodic’s shoulder. No hesitation. No escape.

Freeze.

The effect was instant. Methodic's body locked in place, frozen in perfect stillness. The flicker of acceleration that had defined his every movement was gone—he was trapped in absolute stasis.

His smirk remained, frozen mid-expression, but his eyes told the truth. For the first time, there was fear.

Weird landed smoothly, brushing dust from his jacket as he eyed the immobilized Methodic. "Well, that’s that. Was kind of hoping he’d keep dancing a little longer."

Khem exhaled, withdrawing his hand. "It’s over."

Noble slid down against the wall, breathing hard. "I… I knew you had it under control. The whole time."

Weird rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure you did."

Khem turned his attention back to Methodic’s frozen form. "We need answers."

Weird tilted his head. "You think he can still hear us?"

Khem nodded. "His body is locked, but his mind might still be active."

Weird grinned, stepping closer. "Oh, that’s interesting. Hey, Methodic, buddy—if you can hear me, blink twice. Oh wait—" He chuckled. "Guess that’s not happening."

Khem wasn’t in the mood for jokes. He placed a hand on Methodic’s chest and concentrated. Release—just enough.

A faint tremor passed through Methodic’s body. His eyes twitched, awareness returning, though his body remained motionless.

"Methodic," Khem said calmly, "you’re not getting out of this. But if you cooperate, I might consider letting you breathe properly again."

Methodic’s gaze flicked between Khem and Weird, calculating. He couldn’t move, but he could still think. And that meant he could still try to manipulate the situation.

Weird crouched beside him, resting his arms on his knees. "Look, man, I get it. You had a cool plan, lots of fancy moves, but you lost. So, be a good sport and tell us what we need to know."

Methodic’s lips barely moved, the only part of him Khem had allowed to function. "What... do you want?"

Khem’s voice remained steady. "Why go after Noble? What’s your endgame?"

Methodic’s smirk twitched. "Endgame? You still don’t get it. This isn’t about contracts or orders. This is about setting things right."

His eyes darkened. "You don’t get it, do you? You don’t even know who you’re protecting. That coward—" he shifted his gaze to Noble, "—is the reason I was locked up. His father orchestrated everything. Bought off judges, paid enforcers to turn a blind eye. They called it justice, but it was nothing more than a transaction. I was made an example of, while they kept cashing in."

Noble’s face paled. "That—that’s not true. My father—"

"Your father," Methodic interrupted, his voice laced with venom, "was a parasite feeding on the system. You think I attacked you for some petty revenge? No, you’re just the last piece of his legacy that still breathes. I was going to correct that mistake."

Weird let out a low whistle. "Wow, I thought this was just another assassin gig. Turns out it’s a family reunion with murder motives. Spicy."

Khem remained unmoved. "So this was personal. No one sent you?"

Methodic exhaled slowly. "No. But I wasn’t alone in wanting to see your little employer here pay his dues. If I fail, someone else will come next. And the next. Noble’s father made a lot of enemies before he conveniently disappeared."

Noble swallowed hard. "You’re lying."

Methodic’s smirk returned, but it carried none of the amusement from before. His voice was lower now, edged with something darker. "You really don’t remember, do you? What your family did to me?"

Noble stiffened. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Methodic’s expression hardened. "You lived your life in luxury, throwing parties, basking in wealth that was never meant for you. While you wasted that inheritance on excess, my mother was dying. That money could have saved her. That time could have saved her. And you did nothing."

Noble’s face paled. "I… I didn’t make that decision. It wasn’t me."

"No, but you benefited from it." Methodic’s eyes burned with fury. "Your father gave you everything. And what did you do? You celebrated while my mother wasted away. I was there when she died, Noble. I watched as time ran out for her, knowing that the wealth that could have saved her was spent on your comfort."

Weird let out a slow whistle. "Oof. That’s rough, buddy."

Khem remained silent, watching both men. Noble was frozen in place, not with Methodic’s power, but under the weight of what was just said.

"You think I wanted this power?" Methodic continued, voice raw with emotion. "I don’t care about time. I don’t care about control. I only ever wanted to fix what was stolen from me. But I can’t. So now, I take from you."

Noble swallowed hard, unable to meet his gaze. "I… I didn’t know."

Methodic scoffed. "And that’s why you deserve to lose everything."

Noble’s fists clenched. "That’s not fair! You act like I had a choice in any of this! I didn’t ask to be born into wealth! I didn’t tell my father to do what he did! You think I wanted any of this?"

Weird raised an eyebrow. "Wow, what a compelling defense: ‘Oops, I just tripped and fell into privilege.’"

Noble shot him a glare. "I was just a kid! I didn’t know anything about what my father was doing! I only found out about his dealings after he was gone!"

Khem studied Noble, his expression unreadable. "And yet, you still lived in the luxury built on his corruption."

Noble’s jaw tightened. "What was I supposed to do? Give it all away? Throw myself in prison for something I didn’t do? You think it’s that simple?"

Methodic’s gaze remained cold. "You could’ve done something. Anything. But you did nothing."

Silence stretched between them. Weird shifted his stance, glancing between Khem and Noble. "So what do we do with this guy? We came here to keep him alive, but, uh… turns out he’s not exactly a saint."

Khem exhaled slowly, his gaze still fixed on Noble. "We leave him."

Weird blinked. "Wait, what? Just like that?"

Khem nodded. "He didn’t break any laws. He’s not our problem."

Noble straightened slightly, relief flickering in his eyes. "So that’s it? You’re just going to walk away?"

Khem’s expression didn’t change. "You’re not innocent, but you’re not guilty of anything we can act on. That doesn’t mean others won’t come for you. You should think about that."

Methodic’s glare deepened, but he couldn’t move, still frozen in stasis. "Cowards. You’re letting him walk free."

Weird sighed. "Yeah, well, life’s full of disappointments. Let’s move."

Khem pulled out his communicator and activated the encrypted frequency. "This is Khem. Target is secured. Send officers for retrieval."

A brief crackle of static before a voice responded. "Acknowledged. ETA ten minutes. Maintain position."

Khem glanced at Methodic’s immobilized form. "They’ll be here soon."

Weird stretched, rolling his shoulders. "So, we babysitting him ‘til then, or can we at least order a drink while we wait?"

Khem leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the frozen Methodic in silence.

Weird chuckled. "Yeah, fair point. Still, not bad for a night’s work. Got the bad guy, saved the rich guy, didn’t even get shot this time."

Khem exhaled, glancing at the frozen Methodic. "It’s never that simple."

Weird tilted his head. "You thinking about him? Or Noble?"

Khem exhaled quietly. "This won’t be the last time."

Weird smirked. "Yeah, well, when that time comes, we’ll handle it. Like always."

Khem gave a small nod as distant sirens began to echo through the city. "Let’s wrap this up."

As the flashing lights of approaching enforcement vehicles illuminated the skyline, the tension in the room finally began to fade. Another mission done—but the next one was always waiting.