The room was cold. On purpose. A single overhead light buzzed faintly as it cast a sterile cone onto the steel table between the two suspects. One of them—muscular, with a buzz cut and bandaged knuckles—slouched in his chair with the resignation of someone who knew the system wouldn't hold him long. The other, wiry and sharp-eyed, kept scanning the room like he was waiting for a back door to open and someone to whisk him away.
Keith leaned against the far wall in full Paladin armor, arms crossed. Helmet on.
Bibi stepped in with her usual calm, unshakable presence. She slapped a manila folder down on the table and opened it, revealing stills from the Novatech security footage.
"You broke into a high-security facility," she said flatly. "Tried to steal government-classified tech. Care to tell me who hired you?"
The wiry one laughed dryly. "You think we're gonna say anything? Lady, we'll walk out of here before the ink dries on your report."
The big one smirked. "You're wasting your time."
Bibi leaned forward, her voice like ice. "You were caught red-handed. We already have your prints, your tools, and footage, do you really think you can just walk away?"
The man winked at Bibi.
She scoffed before continuing, "However what we don't have is the name of the man who paid you, so talk"
The wiry one scoffed. "Even if we told you, what would you do? Put a guy like him in cuffs?"
Keith stepped forward then, his voice distorted and low through the helmet. "Try me."
The suspects shared a look—equal parts amusement and caution.
"The Rose Syndicate," Bibi said slowly, watching their reactions. "You work for them, don't you? I mean judging by the tattoos on both of you, it wouldn't be so unlikely."
They didn't answer, but the twitch in the bigger guy's jaw told her enough.
"And you're just small pieces of a bigger puzzle," she added, turning to Keith. "We've been tracking this group for a while. Underground deals. High-level tech theft. Smuggling operations. Every lead we get goes cold the second we follow the money."
The wiry man shrugged. "Because you're not playing in the real leagues."
Keith narrowed his eyes behind the visor. "Then tell us who is."
The man smiled, a little too satisfied. "You want a name? Fine. You'll hear it eventually anyway. People call him Mr. Mayor."
Keith and Bibi exchanged a glance.
"Mr. Mayor," Bibi repeated. "Cute. Real name?"
The man leaned back. "You don't get it. You think this guy's just a middleman? Nah. He's the top of the food chain. You know who runs half the city's property auctions? Who's got friends in council, in enforcement, in big business?"
Bibi's voice was tight. "We know of him. No proof. No files. Not even a photo."
"You don't find Mr. Mayor," the man said. "He finds you. If you're useful."
Keith stepped closer, a faint charge of red energy running along the seams of his armor. "And how did you guys manage to get in contact with a man like that?"
That got a reaction. The wiry one sat up straighter, but quickly masked it.
"No comment," he said.
The big guy, less subtle, muttered under his breath, "Should've never touched that shipment…"
Bibi nodded, silent confirmation.
She tapped the folder once more and stood. "You just bought yourselves a longer stay in holding."
"I wouldn't count on it, lady!"
---
BIBI'S OFFICE – 1:42 A.M.
The blinds were half-closed. The hum of old fluorescent lights overhead mixed with the occasional shuffle of officers down the hall. Keith stood near the back wall while Bibi sifted through stacks of folders and sticky notes pinned to her corkboard.
Red strings connected names. Blurred photos. Memos. Snippets of newspaper headlines. A single printed name stood out under a grainy surveillance image: MR. MAYOR – UNKNOWN.
"You're sure they're Syndicate?" Keith asked, voice back to normal.
Bibi nodded. "We've confirmed it off the record. Those two weren't freelancers. They've worked with known Rose operatives before—names that come up in different cities, under different aliases."
"But you can't touch them."
"Not with what we've got. They've got legal protection, or shell companies, or dirty money wiping their trails clean."
Keith looked at the corkboard, eyes landing on the faded Blackwood Industries logo in one corner.
"Blackwood's involved?"
"Barely. Nothing actionable. A warehouse that once held stolen tech but was mysteriously empty when we got there. A shell company owned by a now-dead associate. Every time we get close, someone pulls strings. Makes calls. Evidence vanishes."
"And this Mr. Mayor guy?" Keith asked.
Bibi's expression darkened. "Every time the Syndicate moves, his name surfaces. Like a ghost in the system. Never photographed. Never recorded. No real name. No address. But somehow? He's always two steps ahead."
Keith looked over the board again, his mind turning.
"This guy… he's not just running the Syndicate. He's hiding behind the system. Like Fisk."
Bibi arched an eyebrow. "You read comics now?"
He shrugged. "Used to. Thought they were just fiction."
Her voice dropped. "Welcome to the real world."
Keith nodded slowly, red light reflecting off the evidence wall. "Then we bring the fight to them. I already got some business to settle with this Mr Mayor guy, this just adds more fuel to the fire."
Bibi didn't answer right away. Instead, she pulled open a drawer and slid a file across the desk.
"Then let's start here. Background on a guy we know is a Syndicate enforcer. Goes by the name Vance. He's visible. Sloppy. And unlike Mr. Mayor… he bleeds."
Keith picked up the file and nodded. "Then he's where we start."
Bibi got up from her desk and moved over to her board.
"Last time he was seen was in Blackstone, near the pier. Rumor has it one of their base's of operation is in Blackstone, and if they're running with Blackwood it would make sense."
Keith looked up from the folder, "If that's the case I can get someone to do some snooping around, see if Vance is there."
Bibi raised her eyebrow suspiciously.
"What, do you have some underground connections now?"
Keith chuckled slightly, "No, but I do know a guy, similar to me, you might've heard of him already."
"And who is this guy?" Bibi asked as she turned to look at him.
"Goes by the name Pulsar Knight."
———
Kite sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, the Nexus Stone glowing softly against his chest. Keith's voice still echoed in his ears, distant now, but the weight of what he'd said lingered like static in the air.
The Rose Syndicate. Mr. Mayor. Blackwood Industries.
Names and whispers. Shadows of power. And now—Vance.
Kite muttered under his breath, "Of course he'd show up here."
The connection through the stones sparked once more, Keith's voice filtered back in, just slightly warped by the mystical channel between them.
"One last thing," Keith said. "Vance. He was last spotted in Blackstone. A few blocks from the pier."
Kite stiffened.
"Wait—here? Like, here here?"
"Yup," Keith replied. "If we find him, we find Mr. Mayor. And maybe finally figure out how he knows about the Quasar Stones."
Kite leaned back against his wall, fingers absently gripping the edge of the stone as it slowly dimmed, the connection fading.
Blackstone was his town. His home. And now it wasn't just muggers and car thieves—no, now the Rose Syndicate was walking his streets.
He turned his head toward the window, the soft orange glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds. Down there, everything looked so normal. So... mundane. But it wasn't. Not anymore.
Vance is here, he thought, pulse quickening. And if Keith's right, Mr. Mayor's watching too.
The name had shown up in rumors, in hushed conversations overheard by Keith and pieced together with painstaking care. Mr. Mayor—never seen, always whispered. A puppet master hidden behind boardroom walls and polished smiles, with just enough deniability to make prosecution impossible.
Keith had told him that Bibi and the department had files—thick ones—but no results. Syndicate members identified, even connected to crimes, but always just out of reach. Lawyers, technicalities, missing witnesses. Too powerful. Too slippery.
And the faint links to Blackwood Industries? That was the icing on a very poisonous cake.
Blackwood was a tech giant. Clean on paper, with a mostly spotless press coverage and generous community outreach. They made headlines for scholarships and clean energy. But Kite had always felt something off about them. Now he had a reason to trust his gut.
He stood up, the floor creaking beneath his feet. His fingers twitched slightly as a familiar sensation stirred inside—restless energy coiled beneath his skin, begging to be used.
He walked to his window and stared out across at the empty peaceful street.
"I need to find Vance," he said aloud, jaw tightening. "And I need to find him before someone else disappears."
The Nexus Stone flared briefly in agreement, like it could sense his resolve.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand. A text from William.
"Yo. You good? Ava's freaking out 'cause you ghosted the group chat."
Kite smiled faintly.
"Yeah. Just... stuff. I'll explain tomorrow."
He threw on a jacket over the hoodie, pulling the hood back up, and slid open the window.
Tonight wasn't going to end in bed.
He vaulted out onto the lower section of the roof before jumping high onto a nearby house.
If Vance was really here, then the hunt had just begun.
And Kite—whether he was ready or not—was done waiting.
The wind off the water was sharp, cutting through Kite's hoodie as he landed silently on the rooftop of a shuttered seafood diner overlooking the pier. The town was asleep, or pretending to be. A few boats rocked lazily in the water, and the occasional seagull squawked under a dim pier light, but otherwise it was quiet.
Too quiet.
Kite scanned the area, eyes narrowing. Keith had said Vance was last seen around here. But there was no sign of Syndicate activity—no sketchy vans, no suspicious figures lurking in the shadows. Just the distant sound of waves lapping against the docks.
He crouched low, resting his hand against the concrete as the Nexus Stone under his shirt pulsed once, a low hum. Nothing dangerous nearby. Nothing… obvious.
Still, his instincts kept him on edge.
Then—movement.
A man in a long coat stepped out from behind a stack of shipping containers near the water. Tall, broad-shouldered. He didn't look like a fisherman or a dockworker. Too clean. Too deliberate.
Kite leaned forward.
The man glanced around once, then started walking—fast—toward a narrow alleyway between two old warehouse buildings.
Kite was already moving.
He leapt silently across the rooftops, dropping down the side of a building and onto the damp alley floor just a few seconds behind the man.
But the alley was empty.
Kite blinked. No footsteps. No doors opening. Just wet pavement, a rusted dumpster, and silence.
"What the hell…" he muttered, checking the corners. No fire escape. No manhole. No way someone could've vanished that fast—unless they were powered. Or unless he was being toyed with.
He reached out through the Nexus Stone, trying to pick up any trace, but it pulsed dull and quiet. Whoever it was, they were gone.
Kite stayed still for another minute, breathing slowly, listening.
Then finally, with a frustrated exhale, he stepped back into the shadows and started walking home.
——
By the time he climbed through his window, it was almost 3 a.m.
Kite collapsed into bed fully clothed, staring at the ceiling as the thoughts swirled—Vance, Mr. Mayor, the man in the alley. Something was happening in Blackstone. And it was already slipping through his fingers.
The Nexus Stone hummed against his chest, calming… steady.
Eventually, the pull of sleep overcame him.