The streets of Neo Lyon never slept. Neon lights flickered against the puddles left by an earlier drizzle, casting long shadows that stretched like claws over the damp asphalt. It was a world of whispers and dread, where even the bravest pedestrians hurried home with their heads down. Tonight, I wasn’t among them. Tonight, I had business with a Meta.

  I adjusted my hood, tugging it low over my eyes as I stepped into an alleyway in Tête d’Or—dangerously close to my place. The air reeked of damp concrete and distant rot. My boots made quiet splashes as I moved, every sound amplified in the stillness. The heist from 2 days ago wasn’t exactly my proudest moment, but necessity demanded I take risks. I needed the money to secure a new living place—I had to let go of the Metapol Relief apartment next month. It would also be good if I could find some hideout for Replica…

  But the moment I turned the corner and spotted Libra standing in the faint glow of a buzzing streetlamp, I knew my night was about to become far more complicated.

  "You're early," I said, my voice low, my tone deliberately disinterested.

  Libra turned, the white of her mask catching the light. The blue scales of justice on her chest gleamed like an accusation. Her costume was pristine, as always, contrasting sharply with my own black costume with barely any visible accents but the lines catching the light in awkward places and moments—chaos incarnate.

  She carried herself with the casual arrogance of someone who knew exactly how dangerous they were—and how much they enjoyed being underestimated.

  "You're late," she countered smoothly, her voice clipped and faintly amused. She crossed her arms, tilting her head as if studying me. "Not too hard of a place to find, was it?”

  I stopped a few feet away, leaning casually against the damp brick wall. “Let’s not pretend this is a social call. You asked me to come here before disappearing. You got a job for me or something?”

  Libra’s mask tilted slightly, and though her face was obscured, I could feel her eyes boring into me. She held that silence for a moment longer than was comfortable, a game to assert control over the conversation.

  Finally, she broke it. “I wouldn’t call it a job, exactly. More like an opportunity. For both of us.”

  The way she said it, smooth and practiced, made me bristle. Opportunities with people like Libra were rarely straightforward. “Cut to the chase,” I said, keeping my tone even. “What do you want?”

  Libra stepped forward, the heels of her boots clicking softly against the wet pavement. “The Red Hands. They’ve been making moves across the city—growing bolder, sloppier. They’re desperate. I think you and I have a shared interest in seeing them crumble.”

  The name sent a shiver down my spine. She shouldn’t know. Almost all my interactions with Metahumans since I have donned my mask have been with Red Hands goons. They are indeed a thorn in my side, and even worse, since the night at The Vault… They both should fear me but also want to get rid of me with Watcher’s state…

  Despite the storm raging in my mind, I try feigning indifference in front of Libra. “The Red Hands? You mean the group you took me as a goon for? Why would I care?”

  "The Red Hands? You mean the group you took me as a goon for? Why would I care?" I shot back, my voice steady despite the churn of unease inside me. Libra couldn’t know about my vendetta, the tangled web of vengeance and survival that tied me to them. If she did, I’d need to reevaluate the level of danger she posed.

  Libra chuckled softly, the sound echoing faintly in the confined alley. She tilted her head, her mask reflecting the dim light in an unsettling way. "You’ve crossed paths with them before. Don’t play coy, Replica. It doesn’t suit you."

  I kept my posture loose, leaning against the wall like I didn’t care, but my mind was working overtime. How much did she know? Did she know about The Vault? About Watcher? About what I’d done? “So what if I have? They’re pests, nothing more. I don’t make a habit of wasting time on roaches.”

  Libra stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “Pests can multiply if left unchecked. And they’ve been getting more and more organized with time. They are less like roaches and more like a proper gang if given enough time. That’s why we need to crush them before that!”

  I folded my arms, letting her words hang in the air. Libra’s tone was sharper now, carrying that weight of conviction that bordered on fanaticism. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen someone like her—burning bright with a purpose they believed was righteous. But purpose like that? It burned you up from the inside.

  “Bold of you to assume I’d care about your crusade,” I said dryly. “What’s in it for me? You wouldn’t call me out to this charming location just to sell me on your moral high ground.”

  Her posture stiffened, a flicker of irritation breaking through her usual calm. “You care more than you let on, Replica. Don’t insult me by pretending otherwise. You’ve seen what the Red Hands are capable of.”

  I kept my face impassive, though her words hit closer to home than I wanted to admit. Of course, I’d seen it. I’d seen what power-hungry metas could do. The destruction, the terror they left in their wake. And what they’d done to me—what they’d taken from me—was etched into my very being. But they weren’t strong yet, they didn’t pose any real threat yet. But the Genesis Serum… Maybe I could work with stomping them. But showing Libra my cards wasn’t an option. Not yet.

  “And what if I have? Doesn’t mean I’m interested in playing the vigilante,” I said. “I’ve got my own priorities. You should know that by now.”

  Her gaze—or what I imagined as her gaze—pierced through me. For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional drip of water from the rooftops.

  “You’re working against them already,” Libra said finally, her voice softer but no less certain. “Whether for revenge, survival, or something else entirely, you’re in their sights. And that makes us natural allies.”

  I pushed off the wall, stepping closer so the space between us felt charged. “Allies? Is that what you’re offering? Or is this just a convenient way for you to use me as bait while you pursue your own agenda?”

  Libra’s lips curled into a smile beneath her mask, a sly curve that was almost playful. “Perhaps it’s both. But that’s not such a bad thing, is it? You and I—we both thrive in chaos. Together, we can bring the Red Hands to their knees.”

  Her words hung in the air, heavy with promise and danger. I let them settle, weighing my options. I didn’t trust Libra—trust was a luxury I couldn’t afford. But I couldn’t deny that taking down the Red Hands was a shared goal, one that aligned with my own goals.

  “Their base is not going to burn itself down,” Libra added, her tone sharp with an edge of impatience. “I’ve been scouting their operations for weeks. I know where to strike. We can move tonight.”

  I stepped back slightly, creating a buffer between us. The air in the alley felt heavier as I considered her offer. Libra’s eagerness to dismantle the Red Hands was palpable, but rushing in? That reeked of impulsiveness—or desperation.

  “Not tonight,” I said, my voice firm. “I’m not exactly the type to barrel into situations without a plan.”

  Libra folded her arms, her posture a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Oh? And what exactly is your plan, Replica? I’d love to hear it.”

  I hesitated. Sharing too much would expose my hand, but lying outright might push Libra away—or worse, make her suspicious. She already knew too much for my comfort. I settled on a half-truth, one that gave just enough to keep her interested without betraying the intricacies of my own agenda.

  “There’s someone I’m working with,” I began, keeping my tone measured. “Let’s just say they’ve got some information that could help us find the Red Hands’ weak points. Rushing in now would be a waste of an opportunity. We’re close to something big.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Libra studied me for a long moment, the glow of the streetlamp reflecting off the white of her mask. Her silence was a challenge, one I wasn’t eager to rise to. Finally, she broke it with a sharp, derisive laugh.

  “You’ve got someone you’re working with,” she repeated, her voice laced with skepticism. “How convenient. Care to share who this mysterious ally is, or should I just take your word for it?”

  I shrugged, maintaining my facade of indifference. “Names aren’t important. What matters is results. And this person has leads you don’t.”

  Her masked face tilted slightly, as if weighing the truth in my words. “Let me guess. Another rogue operator? Someone who thinks they’re clever enough to outplay the Red Hands?”

  “You could say that,” I replied, nonchalant. “But this isn’t a game of wit, Libra. It’s strategy. And strategy requires patience. You’re too eager to charge in headfirst. That’s how people get killed.”

  Libra’s posture stiffened. Her next words came out low, cold. “Don’t mistake my eagerness for recklessness. I’ve done the groundwork. I know their patterns, their defenses. I’m not some novice playing at heroics.”

  “Then you’ll understand why waiting makes sense,” I countered, my tone firm but not confrontational. “If we’re going to take them down, we need to make sure we hit where it hurts the most. Scattering them won’t solve the problem. They’ll regroup, rebuild. We need to destroy the foundation.”

  Her silence stretched between us, the tension in the air thick enough to cut. I could tell she hated waiting. People like Libra, driven by their convictions, didn’t take well to delays. But she wasn’t stupid. She had to see the logic.

  "Fine," Libra finally said, her tone clipped. She uncrossed her arms, shifting her weight as if physically restraining herself from arguing further. "But I won’t wait forever, Replica. These bastards are a stain on Neo Lyon. If you’re wasting my time, I’ll handle this myself."

  Her words struck like a challenge, but I let them roll off me. I’d dealt with zealots before—people who believed in their own righteousness to the point of blindness. Libra might be sharp, but she was still predictable in her passion. I stepped forward, just enough to meet her intensity without being drawn into it.

  “We’ll do this right,” I said, my voice steady. “One move, clean and precise, to make sure they don’t get back up.”

  Libra tilted her head, her masked visage unreadable. “And when do you plan to make this clean and precise move? While you and your nameless accomplice sit around twiddling your thumbs?”

  “Tomorrow night,” I said, the decision coming to me as I spoke. It felt right, logical. I had plans to confirm tonight, and it would give me time to approach Tempus—though I still didn’t trust him entirely either. “Meet me in Croix-Rousse. Near the old textile factory. 22.”

  Libra’s head tilted slightly at my proposal, her posture shifting ever so subtly. I could feel her gaze scrutinizing me even through her mask, weighing the truth of my words. For a heartbeat, the silence was suffocating, punctuated only by the occasional drip of water from the rooftops.

  “Croix-Rousse,” she repeated, her voice sharp, deliberate. “Near the old textile factory. Tomorrow at ten. Fine.”

  Her agreement came with an undertone of suspicion, a subtle warning that she wasn’t entirely convinced of my motives. But she wouldn’t challenge me directly. Not yet. Libra had too much pride to admit she needed me for this, and I wasn’t about to shatter that illusion.

  “Good,” I replied, pushing off the wall and adjusting my hood. “But don’t get any ideas. This isn’t me signing up for your crusade. I have my own reasons for going after them, and they don’t include playing hero.”

  Libra took a step closer, her boots clicking softly against the wet pavement. She stood just within my space, close enough that I could see the faint scuffs on her otherwise immaculate costume. “Call it whatever you want, Replica. But don’t mistake me for someone who fights for glory. I’m here for results. I won’t tolerate half-measures.”

  Her words carried a bite, but I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t. People like her thrived on weakness, even the smallest crack in your armor. “You’ll get your results,” I said coolly. “But only if you follow my lead. One wrong move, and this whole thing could backfire. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

  She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she let the silence stretch, an invisible tug-of-war for control. But finally, she stepped back, the tension easing just enough for me to breathe easier. “Tomorrow, then,” she said, her tone laced with finality.

  I nodded and turned on my heel, leaving the alley without another word. The damp night air clung to my skin as I slipped back onto the dimly lit streets of Neo Lyon. The distant hum of the city’s nightlife was a stark contrast to the charged conversation I’d just left behind. I walked quickly, my mind racing.

  Reaching the streets where the tunnel was located, I froze. The quiet echo of footsteps carried down the deserted lane, bouncing off the cold stone walls. It wasn’t the hurried shuffle of a pedestrian or the drunken stagger of a reveler. These steps were deliberate, even. Someone was here.

  I pulled my hood lower and pressed myself into the shadows of the nearest building. The streetlights flickered, casting dim halos of light over the uneven pavement. My breath misted in the cold air, and I focused on steadying it. Whoever was down there, I couldn’t afford to let them spot me before I understood their intent.

  The footsteps grew louder, coming from the direction of the tunnel’s entrance. A tall figure emerged from the gloom, cloaked in the deep blue of Neo Lyon’s night. I recognized the Venetian-style mask before I saw the faint glimmer of silver accents on their suit.

  Tempus.

  His presence sent a ripple of relief and irritation through me. So, he was here, just as his cryptic words had suggested. Still, I couldn’t shake the suspicion that this wasn’t a coincidence. Tempus didn’t seem like the kind of person who left things to chance.

  “You’ll know where to find me,” he’d said. And here he was, pacing the tunnel’s perimeter like a watchful sentry.

  Stepping out of the shadows, I kept my voice low but firm. “You always this predictable, or were you waiting for me?”

  Tempus turned sharply, his masked gaze landing on me with unsettling precision. He tilted his head slightly, a smirk audible in his tone even if it was hidden beneath the mask. “Replica. You’ve got quite the knack for timing. Did you miss me?”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Hardly. I’ve got better things to do than chase down cryptic remarks.” I gestured toward the dark maw of the tunnel behind him. “Care to explain why you’re loitering around here like some lost tourist?”

  He chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the stillness. “Loitering? That’s harsh. I prefer ‘mapping the uncharted.’” He stepped closer, his movements deliberate but not threatening. “And it seems my instincts were right. You’re here. That tells me you’re curious.”

  “Curious isn’t the word I’d use,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “But if you’ve been down here every night, I figured you might’ve stumbled across something useful.”

  Tempus gestured dramatically toward the tunnel, the silver motifs on his gloves catching the faint light. “The maze is full of secrets, Replica. But secrets don’t come cheap. You should know that.”

  I crossed my arms, glaring at him from beneath my hood. “And here I thought you were just being helpful.”

  “Oh, I am,” he replied, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. “But it’s no fun if I do all the work. So, what’s your angle? You wouldn’t be here unless you had one.”

  For a moment, I considered withholding the truth. Tempus was slippery, his allegiances as fluid as time itself. But if we were going to work together, even briefly, I needed him to trust me—or at least think he could.

  “I’m planning a move against the Red Hands,” I said finally. “And if this tunnel is connected to them in any way, I need to know.”

  Tempus tilted his head, as if weighing my words. “Finally some actions! And to answer your question, my dear, I’ll say that a part is theirs, that’s for sure.”

  I nodded, absorbing the information. “Good. Then tomorrow night, 22 sharp, I need you here. We’re going to act.”

  Tempus folded his arms, the silver details of his gloves catching the faint light. “That’s quite the demand, Replica. You’re not even going to ask nicely?”

  “Would it make a difference?” I shot back, my tone clipped.

  “Not really,” he admitted with a soft laugh. “But I like to know where I stand. So, what’s the plan? Or do you just enjoy dragging people into your chaos?”

  I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “The plan is simple. We confirm what we need to about the tunnel’s connection to the Red Hands, then take it from there. If you’re worried about chaos, Tempus, you should’ve thought twice about calling this city home.”

  He chuckled again, a sound that seemed too casual for the tension in the air. “Touché. But fine, I’ll be here. 22 sharp, like you said. Just don’t keep me waiting. Time isn’t a luxury I like to waste.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied dryly.

  Tempus turned back to the tunnel, his gloved hand brushing against the stone wall as though it whispered secrets only he could hear. He paused, tilting his head as if listening for something in the distance. “You should know, Replica, this maze doesn’t play fair. It twists and turns, leads you in circles, and spits you out in places you never expected.”

  I frowned, his words setting me on edge. “Is that your way of saying we’ll run into trouble?”

  His masked face turned toward me, the faint glow of a streetlamp catching the curve of the Venetian mask. “Always. But isn’t that half the fun?”

  I didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, I turned away, my boots crunching softly against the gravel as I headed back toward the street. “Tomorrow night,” I called over my shoulder. “Don’t be late.”

  Tempus’s voice followed me, light and teasing. “I’m never late, Replica. I just arrive when I’m needed.”

  I rolled my eyes, pulling my hood lower as I stepped back into the city’s neon-lit streets. Behind me, the shadows of the tunnel seemed to pulse, alive with the weight of secrets I wasn’t sure I wanted to uncover. But tomorrow night would bring answers—or more chaos. Either way, I’d be ready.