As he made his way back to his office, carrying a hot drink in his hand, he came to a stop halfway through. Staring at the closed door of his office and the faint light coming from under it, he heaved a long sigh, then continued. Entering the office, he locked the door behind him, placed his mug on the coffee table, and sat down on one of the adjacent sofas.

The small lamp on the nearby desk was the only source of illumination. The soft light it cast revealed the shapes of objects spread around the office, but not the details, leaving most things veiled by a shadow.

The same went for anyone occupying the space. If struck by the light from the wrong angle, one would appear as nothing more than a black silhouette. And if one had their face painted entirely black, people would struggle even more to make out their features or any expression they might make.

"I thought I told you to stop sneaking up on me." The man with the horns said, his whispering voice sending a ripple through the surface of his drink.

His black faced guest didn't reply, continuing to hang his head, legs crossed, hands in the pockets of his coat.

"What? Cat got your tongue or something?"

Another brief silence, followed by a long sigh. The big man took his much and chucked some of the drink it contained, now that it had cooled off a little. Just as he was savoring the taste, his guest finally spoke.

"Kareem is gone."

"And who the fuck is that?" The big man asked.

"One of our sergeants. Handles Pepper Street."

"Oh, I heard about the shooting." Taking another swig, the big man paused, then furrowed his brows. "Wait, you telling me they picked him off just like that?"

"And twelve of his dogs. Picked off mid-chaos. No traces left."

"Hold on… I'm not getting it here."

Even after an explanation was provided, the big man still looked confused.

"We think it's the same Diver." The dark guest said.

"The same one, huh?" Putting his mug down, the bug man crossed his arms and sank back into the sofa. Thinking with his eyes closed, he then opened them and frowned. "So? What do you want us to do?" He said. "You know we aren't equipped to handle those kinds of problems."

"Kent isn't listening to reason. Henry is the same. They're using what happened as an excuse."

"Not that they needed one."

"Exactly." Pausing, the guest added. "I'm sure you already heard about their new weapon."

"That Black Shield stuff?"

"We need you to handle it."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes."

The big man's frown deepened, and he lowered his head in thought; the sharp horns jutting from it seemed to point at the man sitting on the opposite coach.

"Alright, fine, we will take care of it." He made the exasperation in his voice clear. "You'd better not get comfy making these demands. Just because my old man owes you a few times doesn't mean you get to boss me around."

"What are you talking about?" The guest said. "Isn't handling Enhanced Criminal your job, Mr. Hero?"

"If that were the case…" Grabbing his mug, the big man stared at it for a moment. "I would have arrested half your people by now."

~[ ]~

[

Suzuka: It's done.

]

It was 09:00 on the 2nd of February when Dante received the message. Having just woken, he was in the process of making a cup of coffee while trying to decide what to do with his day. He considered checking on the gangsters he trapped before heading to Hollostreet to train, but now he had a better task to fill his time with.

[It's finally done.] Volcan said. Though he tried to keep his voice even, Dante still caught the hint of excitement it carried. One would think an AI would be clearer when portraying feelings, but managing those subtleties was what separated him from the others.

Finishing his breakfast, Dante equipped some new clothes and headed out. Since he had White Hill as his destination, he decided to take the train instead of riding his bike.

As he walked, Dante noticed quite a few pairs of eyes following him around—more than usual, at least. Days have passed since the video of him beating metal arm and his cronies went viral, and though things have long since quieted down online, the same couldn't be said about real life.

Since the incident concerned their district, the people of Hollowgrid were much more reluctant to forget. Because of that, a lot of them seemed to recognize him when he walked outside. Few dared to approach him, but many dared to try and film him without getting permission.

Volcan had to work extra hard to ensure that didn't happen. It was almost as if they were being forced to activate Ghost Mode, which was a very bad idea, considering the circumstances. If enough people were to realize they couldn't film the same guy, suspicion would quickly grow. Because of that, Dante had to give in and let a few sneak their photos.

On a positive note, no one dared to pick a fight or look at him the wrong way. Most street rats scurried away when seeing him approach, so one could say there were some benefits to the moment of that one moment of fame. Not that being constantly monitored was a good thing.

Things got a lot better once the train left Hollowgrid. Dante was able to relax a little, leaving his resident AI to watch their surroundings. He quickly navigated the maze that is White Hill and arrived at the genius Gearhead's hideout.

For a moment there, Dante considered dropping by Lev's place to say hello. In the end, he was far too eager to see the result of his commission that he almost skipped while walking through the abandoned building, heading for the elevator in its depths.

Reaching the underground lair, he was greeted by the grumpy frown of one green-haired clanker, and the tired eyes of a blue-haired beauty who still looked dazzling despite the bags under her eyes.