Chapter 2

The hotel room was a standard executive suite on floor ten, overlooking the neon-soaked arteries of Olympus City. Jake sat at a desk in his underwear, surrounded by disassembled electronics and several open browser tabs. A thick stack of cash—one hundred thousand euros, his payment for the recent delivery—sat on the nightstand, held down by his white rabbit plushie. He ignored the money, focusing instead on the guts of his coil gun. He swapped out a copper capacitor for a high-density magnetic core, his fingers moving with practiced precision. Between adjustments to the rail alignment, Jake scrolled through local forums and encrypted databases. Every search path led toward the same destination: Scrapheap Town. If anyone knew the current whereabouts of a girl with black hair and blue eyes who spent her time preaching Marxist-Leninist theory to anyone who would listen, it would be the information brokers in the dregs of the city. Finding Chloe Vance was the only thing on the primary objective list; everything else was just noise. A shadow flickered across his window. Jake didn’t look up from the coil gun. "You’re late for the strip-o-gram, and I haven't ordered room service yet." Seraphina Stone hovered outside the glass, her white bodysuit glowing faintly against the morning smog. Her shoulder-length black hair didn't move in the wind, and her greyish eyes remained fixed on him. "Jake Miller," she said, her voice muffled but clear through the reinforced pane. "We need to talk." Jake dropped a screwdriver and gestured wildly at the glass. "Excuse me? This is floor ten. Are you serious right now? This is a massive violation of my secret identity. I have a brand to maintain, Seraphina. You can’t just float into my morning routine like some over-caffeinated pigeon." Seraphina drifted closer, her expression remaining entirely calm. "You don't have a secret identity, Jake. Your file is quite extensive. I know your name, your background, and your current legal status. May I come in?" Jake sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. He made no move to grab a robe. "You’re already staring through the glass. You might as well finish the job." "Do you intend to put on clothes?" she asked, her gaze flicking briefly down to his boxers before returning to his face. "Absolutely not," Jake replied. "My body is a temple, and today is a day of worship. If you can’t handle the merchandise, you shouldn't have come to the showroom." He reached out and unlatched the window, sliding it open just enough to poke the barrel of the unfinished coil gun through the gap. He aimed it directly at her forehead. "State your business, or I test the kinetic output on your tiara." Seraphina didn't flinch. She drifted into the room, her boots touching the carpet with a soft thud. "I am Seraphina Stone. I wanted to personally thank you for your assistance yesterday. Because of your intervention, Specter is currently in the custody of Sentinel Services. Taking a Mind-Bender of his caliber off the streets is a significant victory for the city's safety." "Yeah, yeah. He was a real peach. Smelled like an ice box and had the personality of a frozen dinner," Jake said. He lowered the gun but didn't put it away. He turned back to the window and started to slide it shut. "Glad I could help the neighborhood watch. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some very important sitting around to do." Seraphina placed a hand on the frame, stopping the window from closing. "Why are you really in Olympus City, Jake? You aren't registered with any of the local agencies." "I'm a courier," Jake said, shrugging. "I deliver things. Sometimes those things are packages, sometimes they’re concussions for skeletal weirdos with ice powers. It’s a versatile career path." Seraphina narrowed her eyes. "The Imperial Guard has been moving into the north neighborhoods recently. Did they hire you?" "The Imperial Guard? Please. I don't work for guys who name themselves after chess pieces or Roman history books," Jake scoffed. He picked up the rabbit plushie and tucked it under his arm. "I beat Specter because he was a side quest. He was in the way of my main objective. Look, since you’re here and clearly have access to the big-boy databases, maybe you can actually be useful. Have you seen Chloe Vance?" Seraphina’s brow furrowed. "The name is familiar. Is she the one with the... political pamphlets?" "Black hair, blue eyes, thinks the means of production should be seized by the people," Jake confirmed. "A dedicated Marxist-Leninist. Also, she owes me a sandwich." "I don't know her personally," Seraphina said, her voice softening slightly. "But I can check our internal files. If she's been active in the city, there will be a record of her movements. I’m happy to help you find her, Jake. You have potential." She stepped forward, her white suit gleaming under the hotel’s fluorescent lights. "In fact, that’s why I’m here. I represent The Elite. We’ve been watching your performance. Your timing, your efficiency... it’s remarkable. We want to offer you a position. A hero of your caliber shouldn't be wasting his time in hotel rooms in his underwear. You could be a symbol." Jake snorted, tossing the plushie onto the bed. "A symbol? I’m already a symbol. I’m the symbol for 'Leave Me Alone Or I’ll Throw A Car At You.' I can take care of myself, Seraphina. I don't need a team, a dental plan, or a matching spandex outfit. My current boss is a red Road Runner, and he doesn't complain about my work-life balance." "This isn't a joke," Seraphina warned, her tone turning sharp. "The Nexus Syndicate is growing bolder. Noah Hayes isn't just another street thug with a serum habit. He’s dangerous, Jake. He’s hitting Silas Blackwood’s place, he’s disrupting the Serenity trade, and he’s moving into territory that belongs to very powerful people. If you get caught in the middle of this without protection, you won’t survive." Jake grinned. "Noah Hayes? Sounds like the lead singer of a failed boy band. What’s his power? Autotune? If he wants to play with the big dogs, he should've picked a name that doesn't sound like a brand of artisanal water." Seraphina sighed, reaching into a hidden pocket in her bodysuit. She pulled out a small, sleek business card and held it out. "You’re arrogant. That will get you killed in this city. But the offer stands. If you find yourself sidetracked—or if you find that the 'side quests' become too much to handle—call the number on this card." Jake took the card between two fingers, giving it a cursory glance. "I'll put it in the 'maybe' pile. Next to the coupons for half-off pizza." "Goodbye, Jake," Seraphina said. Without another word, she stepped back out the window and took to the sky, vanishing into the gray clouds above the skyscrapers. Jake watched her go, then tossed the card onto the desk. "Superheroes. Always so dramatic with the exits." "A curious interaction," a distorted, mechanical voice crackled through the room’s speakers. Jake jumped, spinning around and aiming the coil gun at the television, which remained off. "Who’s there? If you’re the hotel manager, I’m not paying for the window damage. It was like that when I got here." "What did Seraphina Stone tell you?" the voice asked. It was heavily encrypted, vibrating with an artificial edge. Jake lowered the gun, his eyes darting around the room. "Are you spying on me? That’s creepy. Even for this city, that’s a new low. I hope you enjoyed the show, but I usually charge for the 'underwear and gadgets' routine." "I am Urban Outlaw," the voice replied, ignoring the sarcasm. "I represent the Imperial Guard. We have eyes everywhere, Mr. Miller. We saw your encounter with the Mind-Bender. We saw your conversation with the girl in white. She offers you a badge and a set of rules. I offer you much more." Jake sat back on the edge of the bed. "The Imperial Guard. The guys Seraphina warned me about. Let me guess, you have a better dental plan?" "We have resources that The Elite cannot dream of," Urban Outlaw said. "Maximus Thorne does not care about your 'brand' or your 'morality.' He cares about results. You are a man who gets things done, regardless of the chaos you leave in your wake. The Guard rewards that kind of... flexibility." "Flexibility is my middle name," Jake said. "Well, actually it’s Miller, but I’m thinking of changing it. What exactly are the benefits of joining the Roman Empire 2.0?" "Access to the city’s restricted zones. Protection from the Nexus Syndicate’s reach. And most importantly, information. You are looking for Chloe Vance. We know where she was last seen. We know who she’s been talking to. Join us, and that information is yours. Along with a salary that would make your current delivery fees look like pocket change." Jake tapped his chin. "Sounds tempting. But I don't just sign up for things. I’m a high-maintenance asset. How do I know you’re not just a guy in a basement with a voice changer?" "You want to prove yourself?" Urban Outlaw asked. "Fine. I am sending an address to your personal device. There is a meeting taking place at a casino in the Sakura District. It is a neutral ground, but the interests involved are... sensitive. Show up. Listen. If you handle yourself well, we can discuss your future." Jake’s phone buzzed on the desk. A map coordinate appeared on the screen, centered on a high-end establishment in the Sakura District. "I’ll think about it," Jake said. "But no promises. I have a very busy schedule of doing absolutely nothing." "Do not be late," Urban Outlaw said, and the line went dead with a sharp click. Jake stared at the phone, then at Seraphina’s business card, and finally at the map of Scrapheap Town on his computer screen. The quest to find Chloe had just gotten a lot more complicated. He had the "good guys" in his ear, the "bad guys" on his phone, and a city full of junkies and skeletons in between. "Multiple routes unlocked," Jake muttered, a slow grin spreading across his face. He stood up and finally reached for his Vigilante Suit. "Time to see which one pays better." ════════════════════════════════════════