Axiom Syndicate Strikes Again
A Frantic Call
The phone buzzed, sharp and jarring in the silence of Remond's apartment. He blinked blearily at the screen, the caller ID flashing Alina in bold letters. A chill prickled down his spine—Alina rarely called directly unless it was urgent.
He picked up, voice rough with sleep. "Alina?"
Her response was immediate, raw with panic. "Remond—Rebecca's missing. I-I can't find her anywhere!"
The fear in her tone struck him like a gut punch. "Slow down," he said, swinging his legs off the bed, already pulling on a jacket. "When did you last see her?"
"Last night," Alina replied, her words tumbling over each other. "She said she was going to meet Elliot. But neither of them are answering their phones now. I—I don't know what to do."
"I'm on my way," Remond assured her, grabbing his mask and gloves. He ended the call and dialed Bronson back, his jaw tight.
"You called back quite fast, man," Bronson grumbled.
"Rebecca and Elliot are missing," Remond said bluntly. "Meet me at Alina's place. Now."
The line went dead before Bronson could respond.
---
The Gathering at Alina's Mansion
The drive to Alina's family mansion was a blur of dark streets and spinning thoughts. By the time Remond arrived, Bronson's car was already parked in the driveway. The front door swung open before he could knock, Alina's face pale and drawn as she ushered them inside.
Her parents hovered by the stairs, eyes shadowed with worry. The mansion's grandiose chandeliers and marble floors seemed cold and empty, all opulence stripped by the tension hanging thick in the air.
"Any news?" Remond asked, scanning the room for signs of a struggle, anything out of place.
Bronson shook his head grimly. "Elliot's phone is off. No signal. And…" He hesitated, a flicker of something dark in his eyes. "Noah's body was found this morning. Dead."
Alina's breath hitched audibly. Her mother covered her mouth with a trembling hand, eyes glistening.
"No…" Alina whispered, legs buckling. Remond caught her by the shoulders, steadying her even as his own mind reeled. First Rebecca and Elliot, now Noah dead—pieces of a grim puzzle slotting into place.
Her father straightened, jaw clenched. "We're contacting the police," he said firmly, moving to the phone. "They have to know."
But Remond's gut twisted with unease. If the police were involved—if this went public—Second Dawn would bury the truth before anyone could breathe a word.
---
The Call from Ho Dieng
Remond's phone buzzed again, vibrating in his pocket like a trapped insect. The screen displayed an unknown number, but something in him recognized it instantly.
He stepped away from the others, answering with a tight breath. "Master Ho Dieng?"
The old man's voice was a balm at first, smooth and composed. "Remond. I hoped I'd reach you."
"I could use some good news," Remond muttered, leaning against the wall, one eye on Alina's family.
But the relief was short-lived. Ho Dieng's next words were laced with urgency.
"You need to leave that place. Now," he commanded. "The Axiom Syndicate—they're behind this. They've been the biggest investors of Second Dawn all along, hiding behind shell companies."
Remond's blood ran cold. "Axiom Syndicate?" he echoed, voice dropping.
"Yes," Ho Dieng confirmed. "And if they're making moves like this, you're a target. They won't stop until they've erased every trace of your evidence."
The world seemed to tilt sideways. The Axiom Syndicate—known only in whispers and rumors, a ghost pulling strings from the shadows. And worse still, the thought that lingered, insidious and unwelcome: Is his mother involved in it too?
---
The Bodies Found
Sirens howled outside, red and blue lights spilling through the windows. Remond's pulse raced, dread pooling in his gut. Bronson, Alina, and her parents stood stiff by the door, eyes fixed on the squad cars parked at the gates.
A detective approached, his expression grim. "We found them," he announced, voice heavy. "Rebecca and Elliot… both dead. It wasn't clean."
Alina's mother gasped, staggering back. Her father cursed under his breath, eyes glistening with a rage that barely masked the grief.
But Remond heard little beyond the roar in his ears. Dead. Both of them. He gripped the doorframe, knuckles white, the room swaying sickeningly.
The detective's voice droned on, describing wounds, a scene painted in violence, but it blurred into static. It felt like watching a train wreck through glass—distant, irreversible, and yet all too real.
---
Memories and Monsters
They barely had time to process the news when the attack came.
It started with a shattering of glass, an explosion that rocked the mansion's foundation. Remond's instincts flared, eyes snapping to the source—figures moving through the smoke, shadows with the gait of beasts.
Animal men.
His breath caught, memories clawing back—teeth and claws, blood slick on the pavement, nights spent haunted by eyes that gleamed with feral intent. For a heartbeat, he was fourteen again, running through alleys with adrenaline and terror coursing through his veins.
But there was no time to freeze. One of the beasts lunged, a blur of fur and muscle. Remond ducked, throwing a punch that connected with a sickening crack. Bronson was shouting, Alina's father dragging her back, her mother's screams slicing through the chaos.
"Go! Get them out!" Remond barked, voice raw. Bronson hesitated, eyes flicking to him with a mix of fear and determination, but a second explosion made the choice for him. He grabbed Alina's arm, pulling her towards the back exit.
The beasts closed in, eyes glinting in the dim light, jaws parted in snarls. Remond fell into stance, every nerve lit and buzzing. He struck hard, kinetic energy thrumming under his skin, each blow radiating with a pulsing orange glow.
---
Cornered
It wasn't enough. For every one that fell, two more took its place. Remond's breaths came ragged, muscles screaming in protest. Blood dripped from a cut on his brow, stinging his vision, but he pressed on, gritting his teeth against the exhaustion dragging at his limbs.
A clawed hand swiped at him, raking across his shoulder and drawing a searing line of pain. He stumbled back, back hitting the wall with a bone-jarring thud. The beasts circled, growling, eyes bright with malice.
Cornered. No escape.
One lunged, and Remond swung, a blast of energy sending it careening into a pillar—but it wasn't enough. His vision blurred, fatigue making his movements sluggish, breaths shallow and rasping.
A snarl tore through the air—deeper, more vicious. The lead beast's eyes widened, head snapping to the side just in time for a dark blur to slam into it, claws flashing.
---
Ms. Panther's Arrival
Ms. Panther moved like a shadow, lethal and fluid. Her suit gleamed obsidian, eyes slitted like a predator's, claws curved and glinting. The beasts had no chance—each swipe was precise, ruthless, bones snapping under the force of her blows.
She whirled, hair fanning, and caught sight of Remond slumped against the wall. Her eyes narrowed, glinting gold.
"You look like hell," she remarked, voice smooth with a hint of amusement.
Remond barked a hoarse laugh, grimacing. "You're late."
"Fashionably," Ms. Panther retorted, spinning to slash through another beast. "Stay put. I've got this."
She was a cyclone of claws and fury, every movement a dance of death. The beasts faltered, growls turning to yelps of pain and terror. For the first time since the attack started, hope flared in Remond's chest, fierce and bright.
Because if Ms. Panther was here, maybe—just maybe—they weren't out of the fight yet.