Chapter 40

While waiting for the team to assemble, she gave me a quick but to-the-point rundown of the situation.

The criminals found by the police were holed up in one of the buildings that served as their "hideout." It was an old tenement building owned by some woman—who the police hadn't managed to track down. Judging by the tone of Sybilla's voice, she doubted the owner would ever turn up. Right next to it, practically sharing a wall, was an abandoned building in desperate need of repairs. There were up to thirty gang members inside, but with Mysterio in the mix, the actual number could be wildly different. They were armed with a mix of weapons, including automatic firearms and grenades—flashbangs, smoke, and even frags.

The cops got lucky. Several patrol cars were in the area, checking out suspicious addresses, so when one team hit the panic button, the others rushed in to help. A shootout broke out but was quickly shut down by the arrival of a SWAT team that had been on standby nearby. The SWAT guys brought some heavy, new-generation firepower, which is what managed to drive off a supervillain in an exosuit—a scorpion-themed anthropomorphic nightmare called Scorpia. She had shown up just a minute or two before the SWAT team arrived. That was when the police lost two officers and Lieutenant Elizabeth, along with three other cops, got taken hostage. If it weren't for the guys in armored trucks, the villains might have escaped, potentially dragging civilians and hostages along with them.

Sybilla wanted me to give her the most detailed floor-by-floor layout possible, using my abilities, because Mysterio's drones could easily screw up any other recon attempts.

"Alright, listen up," the woman started as our group entered the adjacent building through the side windows, making sure the criminals couldn't spot us. Before that, she pointed to my eyes, gestured around, and, after my silent "all clear," started briefing the five SWAT members in full body armor, helmets, and face coverings. Each of them had NVGs strapped to their helmets, currently flipped up, revealing their eyes.

"We go floor by floor. Guard the kid, keep radio silence, and do exactly what I say. We might be able to extract our people, but that depends on our luck. No further details—I'm not taking chances in case they're listening in. If we get into a firefight, call for backup. If the boy starts pulling some weird bullshit—don't freak out like a bunch of hysterical bitches. He's a mutant.

Kid, write down everything fast in this notebook. If shit hits the fan, don't get in the way."

She handed me a slim notepad with a pen attached.

"Let's move."

And move we did.

We cleared the first two floors, while I stuck to the wall of the adjacent building, scribbling everything I saw into the notepad and passing it to Sybilla. Nothing unusual so far. My energy vision picked up heat signatures of gang members mostly positioned around the windows. But then I saw the third floor—and my heart started hammering. I fought the urge to sprint upstairs and kept doing my job.

By the time we reached the stairs, I was focused and ready. The thing was, on the third floor, in a room that shared a wall with both buildings, I saw a cluster of people. And not just any cluster—one that looked disturbingly similar to what I had seen in the basement of a slaver den last time. A tangled mess of heat signatures. And two figures near the door, standing about five feet away—most likely guarding the entrance.

We climbed to the third floor and moved toward the corner rooms. In the first one, I pressed myself flat against the wall, scanning the area with extra care. Not that I had slacked off on the previous floors, but here, I practically fused with the crumbling plaster, making sure I got every possible detail.

Then, on the fourth floor, I spotted something... weird.

An anomaly.

A humanoid heat signature, but covered in a web of thin and thick bluish lines—like someone had wrapped themselves in a net of electrical cables. And the shape? It looked suspiciously like a creature with a tail ending in a stinger.

Took me a few seconds to put two and two together. This had to be the local Scorpion—or Scorpia, as the media called her. Hell, she even introduced herself that way a couple of times when monologuing.

Not much solid info on her. From what I'd caught on the news, she wore an exosuit that looked like something ripped straight out of the old Spider-Man cartoons.

Honestly, I was a little baffled.

Like, seriously—why the hell was that suit a one-of-a-kind deal? How was this not mass-produced? Did her tailor refuse to make duplicates? "Sorry, sweetie, we're a bespoke villain couture shop, one costume per client!"

Still, she made a name for herself. Her suit kept her alive through absolute hell, giving her armor, insane agility, super strength, endurance, and, judging from news clips, pretty solid reflexes. Not quite Neo levels, but she always managed to dodge the worst hits—as long as they were a tad slower than a bullet. Or… maybe not just a tad? I had seen her leap away from a rocket-propelled grenade mid-flight.

Then there was her "stinger." It wasn't just for stabbing, it could shoot stuff too. Acid, poison, even goddamn napalm. Apparently, whatever she loaded into it was what she sprayed. Talk about versatile.

So yeah… I was definitely going to dig deeper into these villains once I got back to school. Sure, I was focused on my own power development, but knowing yourself is only half the battle. You gotta know your enemy and yada-yada, something-something…

…Whatever. Can't exactly hop back to my past life to Google it now.

All these thoughts ran through the back of my mind while my body practically vibrated with anticipation. No joke.

My mom was in there.

And that… that was hard to process.

I remembered how, in my past life, my daughter had broken her arm. Big, grown-ass man that I was, I shook like a goddamn leaf. Called an ambulance and, until they arrived, barely held it together. My wife had been a hundred times calmer—or maybe she was just better at faking it.

And now? This was like that, but cranked up to an apocalyptic level.

I stood by the wall—behind another wall—and beyond that, a large heat signature. A mess of tangled human outlines—arms, legs, heads. Heat signatures don't give a clear picture, but I could see enough.

The room we were in was small, maybe fifteen by ten feet. In the corner, there was a pile of rags, an old cardboard box, and a tin can that had been used as an ashtray. Looked like a homeless person had been living here before all this went down. The walls were stripped down to the brick in places. No lighting—except for the faint glow of my own energy.

I turned to Sybilla.

"There's a lot of people in there, all huddled together," I whispered as I stepped in close. "It looks a lot like how the slaves were kept last time. Two people by the far wall, probably near the doorway. They've got gadgets—most likely phones or radios. I can make an opening in the walls almost silently. Scorpia's in her suit on the fourth floor. No drones in sight."

Sybilla stood still. I couldn't see her face under the mask, but her eyes were thoughtful. Meanwhile, I was a mess. My mom could be behind that wall, and we needed to get her out. I had no idea what I would've done if Sybilla hadn't given a sharp nod after a moment's consideration.

"Do it," the SWAT officer said briskly. "Girls, get ready. We go in, grab the people, and get out. Keep it quiet if we can, but if things go south—shoot to kill. Use the special gear on the super. Alright, kid, show us your voodoo-magic bullshit."

While the SWAT team prepped their guns and took their positions, I approached the wall and placed my hands against it. Heat. My thing. Melting stone into a puddle wasn't exactly hard for me. The key was taking it slow and steady. I started heating from the top, carefully melting a door-sized opening.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught one of the women muttering a quiet string of curses. Yeah, fair reaction. Watching a stone wall turn into molten lava and pour onto the floor before instantly solidifying at my feet? Even I had to admit it looked pretty badass. Some of the molten rock spilled outward onto the building's exterior, hardening on the walls.

And the heat? Completely controlled. I wasn't about to roast my "teammates." If only I could do something about the smoke—the burning matter in the brick gave off a good amount of it.

Twenty seconds, and the first wall was done. The gap between the buildings was about a meter—maybe a little less. Whatever. I crouched down and pressed my hands against the neighboring wall. Time for a different approach.

I started by heating it gently, just enough to get a feel for the structure, to take control of the area I needed.

Then—bam—instant temperature spike to melting point. I left about ten centimeters of the wall near the hostages cold, while the rest of it poured out with a loud, bubbling splash.

I took a step back, watching the silhouettes of the two guards near the doorway glance at each other in confusion—before I lunged straight through the newly thinned barrier.

Dust and lingering smoke flooded the room with me, screwing up normal vision but doing jack shit to my energy sight.

Two quick harpoon clicks, and the women by the entrance collapsed onto the floor.

Behind me, I heard Sybilla bark out commands as I stepped aside to let the SWAT team in. My eyes scanned the room.

Just a meter away, a tightly packed group of shackled women—just like last time. Among them, I spotted several wearing police uniforms.

No time to waste. I moved toward them, immediately burning through the links in their chains. Probably around twenty people, same as before. Standard "shipment size," I guessed in the back of my mind while working like a human blowtorch.

Then—I saw her.

Mom!

She was the last one in the row, shackled by her right wrist and ankle.

She was looking at me.

Behind me, SWAT officers were already hauling freed women into the other building. I kept cutting chains, forcing myself to stay steady—not to panic, not to scream.

Mom.

Betty's eyes were dazed with pain. Her face was a mess—busted up, dried blood caked under her nose and chin, the right side swollen with a massive bruise.

And she was missing her left arm.

Just below the elbow.

A rough bandage—torn-up uniform scraps—covered the stump, a belt cinched tightly around it.

I sucked in a breath.

Energy sight flared.

Four figures were moving toward our location.

Four hostages still chained—including my mom.

I sprinted to her, melting through her restraints before carefully lifting her into the arms of two approaching SWAT officers.

"Four incoming," I shot at Sybilla while my shaking hands burned through more links.

Two more to go.

But we were out of time.

Only half the prisoners had been evacuated, and those four were going to be here in seconds.

"Go ahead," I told the last two cops, then bolted for the door.

I could already hear the voices outside—excited, chattering.

They were close together.

Good.

Easier to take them out in one shot.

Ignoring the muttered curses behind me, I kicked the door open and lunged out—sparking like fucking Electro, arms spread wide.

I might've miscalculated the strength of the shock a little—but hey, this was a combat op.

Four fried gang chicks was a small price to pay for avoiding gunfire in a room full of hostages.

Not like Sybilla's girls wouldn't have filled them with lead anyway.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I was absolutely goddamn livid about what these bastards did to my mom.

Nothing at all.

But the problem?

One of those dumbasses had been on the radio mid-sentence.

Which meant the alarm was up.

"Call in reinforcements," I told Sybilla while torching the last set of chains. "They were talking to someone."

She turned to me with a look that could've curdled milk. Like Lenin staring down the bourgeoisie with the promise of divine punishment.

Not happy I'd acted on my own?

Too bad.

Almost every hostile in my range of vision was now moving toward us.

I bent down, picked up a pistol from one of the unconscious goons, and flicked the safety off.

Sybilla was already barking orders into her radio.

The last hostage was through the gap, and the SWAT team began pulling out.

Only her and I remained in the room.

She jerked her head toward the exit.

I shook mine.

"Scorpia's about to be here. Go ahead—I'll cover. She can't do shit to me."

Her mouth opened—probably to argue—but I growled, cutting her off.

"Move. You can argue later."

Her eyes widened.

Then, without a word, she turned and vaulted through the gap.

She isn't such a hardass, I thought, watching her clear the distance like a damn goat before following her through.

And fuck, I wanted to stay.

Just a little longer.

Light up this whole goddamn place as is proper in the name of the Emperor.

But mom was more important.

Revenge could wait.

Rage simmered inside me, blending with the steady, low snarl of the Flame.

We moved fast, heading for the exit, rushing down the stairwell to the second floor.

Behind me, I heard the crash.

Scorpia.

Her heat signature was closing in fast.

From outside, gunfire erupted.

Looked like Stacy had given the go-ahead to start the assault.

We were all still on the stairs.

If a fight with Scorpia broke out here, casualties would be unavoidable.

If she crashed down on someone in her heavy suit… if the stairs collapsed…

And mom was below.

Since I was the last one out, I just turned on my heel and sprinted back.

If I pushed it, I'd meet her right at the entrance, and from there…

I heard Sybilla cussing me out, but I ignored her and ran full speed.

I just made it.

We stood facing each other. Both of us masked—our faces hidden.

Scorpia's armor was downright terrifying.

Easily over two meters tall, steel-gray plating, arms massive enough that if she landed a punch, I'd be powder. And judging by the design, there had to be weapons hidden inside. Over her left shoulder, the wicked stinger of her tail hovered, ready to strike.

A joke popped into my head:

"Dad, I caught a bear."

"Well, bring it here."

"I can't—it won't let me."

Yeah. This felt like that.

Here she was.

Gift-wrapped and delivered.

And, yeah, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little bit scared.

"Well, well, what a meeting. You must be Mister Mutant."

Mocking tone, but she wasn't charging in recklessly. Unknown super? Who the hell knows what he can do.

"Get out of my way, kid."

She growled, and from her wrists, a pair of brutal, razor-sharp blades shot out. More like cleavers, honestly—massive enough to chop a person clean in half.

Looking at those arm-blades, a question popped into my head, and I blurted it out:

"You the one who cut off that cop's arm?"

"Yeah. And if you don't—"

I didn't let her finish.

The moment she confirmed it, the dam holding back my rage shattered.

This was the bitch who maimed my mom.

AND SHE CAME TO ME.

The Flame inside me roared.

I barely had time to ignite before my hand snapped up, pistol aimed, finger pulling the trigger.

The bullet wasn't just a hunk of lead—it left behind a trail of fire, a burning round that slammed into her chest with a deafening crack.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something—the gun in my hand was covered in glowing, fiery runes, and my whole body had erupted into flames.

Scorpia staggered back a few steps.

I pulled the trigger again.

A second tracer, even bigger and hotter than the first, blasted her clean off her feet, slamming her into the wall several meters away.

The Flame howled inside me.

I growled right back, unloading every last round until the mag ran dry.

Scorpia lay motionless, her armor covered in deep, dented craters. But I could still see the energy lines flickering across it. The suit was still functional.

I let the pistol drop and stepped forward.

Arrest her?

Throw her in jail?

Yeah, right.

The piece of shit who hurt my family was going to die.

In my head, war drums pounded, and the Flame inside me danced to the rhythm.

Garbage needed to be burned.

I was a meter away when the armor's tail twitched—then lashed toward me at lightning speed.

I didn't even have time to react before the sheer force of the impact sent me flying, my back slamming into the wall.

A second's disorientation—

Then she was already up, charging straight at me.

Harpoons.

I discharged both of them at max power.

A blinding flash—

Two lightning bolts speared into her armor.

I felt my reserves take a nosedive—down to a third of my full capacity.

I'd never hit someone this hard before.

"And for good reason," I muttered to myself, getting back on my feet.

"Scorpion au gratin."

I smirked at my handiwork.

Scorpia's "dangerous but stylish" exosuit wasn't steel-gray anymore.

It was charred black.

Where the harpoons hit, there were two massive holes—easily twenty centimeters wide.

And through them, I could see the cooked meat underneath.

Right thigh. Left shoulder.

Lucky shots, considering I hadn't been aiming—I'd just fired in her general direction.

"…You gotta be shitting me."

Behind me, Sybilla's stunned voice broke the silence.

Then, she cracked up.

"He actually took her down… Ahaha! AHAHAHA! Holy shit!"

She wheezed through laughter.

"What a fucked up day! A fucking kid took down Scorpia! Oh, Goddess, I can die happy now—I've seen everything."

I had no idea what to say to that.

Not that she needed a response.

She pulled out her radio and called for a team to haul off the body—armor and all.

Not that the exosuit was functioning anymore.

No active elements.

Even the power cells were completely drained.

And the woman inside?

Yeah.

People don't survive that.

"What about the hostages?" I asked, turning to the potty-mouthed officer.

"All out. Safe and sound."

Then she frowned, sighing.

"…Except for Betty. That girl got it bad. But thank the Goddess, she's gonna live."

I only nodded.

The adrenaline was fading.

The rage, too.

Leaving nothing behind but exhaustion and emptiness.

"Listen, kid… Don't take it the wrong way." Sybilla rubbed the back of her neck. "Just… head outside. Our people will handle this."

"I'll wait." I said flatly. "I want to make sure the body's taken care of. You never know."

"That's fair…" She drawled. Then, after a pause "…And thanks, kid."

She exhaled heavily.

"I still think you shouldn't be sticking your dick into women's business—"

(Okay, wow.)

"—but you helped us today. Saved the hostages. Saved my sister."

She hesitated.

"No telling how long Betty would've lasted. And that armored bitch? Taking her down would've been a nightmare."

Under different circumstances, I might've appreciated the words.

But right now?

I felt nothing.

So I just nodded and stayed silent.

Waited until the retrieval team arrived—some of them heading for the breach, others dragging the "trophy" out.

Listened to the girls bitching about how goddamn heavy Scorpia's body was.

And then, finally, I walked out.

It had been, as Sybilla would've said, a truly fucked-up day.

Now, I needed to ditch the combat gear, switch to civilian clothes, and find out which hospital my mom had been taken to.

Everything else could wait.