Earlier that day…

  Glimmerstrike scanned the slum marketplace on her energy platform suspended high above the ground, her eyes searching the crowd for any signs of Axion. Her long platinum-blonde hair, usually left loose, was pulled back in a ponytail for this outing, as per the request of Paragon Entertainment's marketing team. The sleek, form-fitting bodysuit she wore hugged her every curve, its iridescent material shimmering as she moved.

  "Come on, where are you?" she muttered, her eyes darting back and forth.

  It had been a few weeks already, and Axion still hadn't shown herself. She knew that the little twerp was around. She had to be. There was no way that she could have left without a trace. Did one of the gangs here take her out?

  No way.

  Someone who had manage to kill Prime wouldn't die so easily. Not without some spectacle. An explosion. The burning of a building, the leveling of a block. The media would have jumped all over the event to broadcast Axion's demise.

  But there was no such news.

  It wasn't for a lack of searching, either. Glimmerstrike had been practically scouring the streets to find the Meta. She even had her camera drones spread out to catch a glimpse of the scoundrel.

  "Tony," she spoke into her comm, addressing the operator on the other end. "Any updates?"

  "Nope. Still no sign of her. You'd think the white hair would give her away, but so far, no dice."

  Glimmerstrike sighed, her patience wearing thin. "She's gotta be here somewhere. I swear, if she's hiding from me, I'll—"

  "Hey, relax," Tony interrupted. "We'll find her. Just remember, the whole city's rooting for you. This is prime streaming material."

  "What's there to stream when nothing's happening?" she grumbled, still searching. "The collab with Diamond Ace to bring her down should have happened by now, but she's not showing her face. Are you sure you didn't miss any sightings?"

  "Yeah, I'm sure. Unless she's got a camouflage power we don't know about, she hasn't been around. But that's a good thing, right? Means she hasn't been causing trouble."

  "Ugh, I guess."

  "Can't believe Diamond Ace isn't even helping out right now," Tony mused. "You'd think he'd be eager to help bring down the villain who killed his teammate."

  "It's complicated," she replied, biting her lip. "There's a lot going on behind the scenes."

  "Such as?"

  "I really can't talk about it," she insisted, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. "Just trust me on this one, okay?"

  Truthfully, she wasn't upset about Diamond Ace's absence. Despite his seemingly cold and strict demeanor, she knew that he took his work seriously. But during her time training under him, she'd discovered that he hadn't been on good terms with Prime, to put it mildly.

  Besides, the mission to apprehend Axion was technically a Paragon Entertainment initiative, not an Ultimate Guardians one.

  "Yeah, yeah," Tony dismissed. "So, what's the next step?"

  Glimmerstrike chewed on her lower lip. She needed to do something big to get Axion's attention. Something that would draw her out of hiding and into the open. It had to be daring, it had to be bold, and most of all, it had to be livestreamed for maximum exposure. She racked her brain, thinking of anything that would fit the bill.

  What could she do?

  Wait, of course!

  An idea began to form, and a sly smile spread across her face. "Tony, I've got an idea. And I need you to set up the stream."

  "Oh? This should be good. What do you have in mind?"

  "If we can't find Axion, we'll make her come to us," she explained. "We'll find one of the big gangs in the area and bust them. We'll livestream the whole thing, and I'll make sure to call her out. She won't be able to resist."

  "Are you sure about this?" Tony asked, sounding hesitant. "You know how dangerous the gangs here can be. Especially when they're provoked."

  "More dangerous than the criminals we've been dealing with in the Metropolis?" Glimmerstrike scoffed. "Please, Tony. This will be a piece of cake. The most they can do is shoot me with scrap guns and rusty knives."

  "You're not wrong," Tony said. "Alright, I'll start setting things up on our end. Just be careful, okay?"

  "Relax, I've got this," she assured him. "Now, let's find a target. Preferably one of the bigger gangs."

  At a run-down hospital on the edge of the slums, members of the Red Market Syndicate hurriedly moved boxes of illicit medical supplies and contraband out to a large truck parked in the crumbling parking lot. A group of armed guards watched the perimeter, their eyes scanning for any potential threats.

  The syndicate's leader, Dr. Isabella Sartori, stood by the truck, barking orders to her men. She was a tall, imposing woman with short, cropped black hair and a piercing gaze that could make anyone feel small. She wore a lab coat over a simple black dress, her appearance as no-nonsense as her demeanor.

  "Move it!" she shouted, her voice commanding. "We're on a schedule here!"

  One of her men, a burly man named Rico, approached her cautiously. "Boss, are you sure about this? I mean, we're already in enough hot water with the other gangs. If they catch wind of this..."

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  Isabella shot him a withering glare that silenced him instantly. "Do you really think I'd be doing this if I wasn't sure? Now, get back to work before I decide you're more useful as spare parts."

  Rico swallowed hard and nodded, retreating to help with the rest of the supplies. As they finished loading the truck, Isabella checked her watch. "Time to go," she announced. "Let's not keep our customers waiting."

  Just as she was about to climb into the passenger seat of the truck, a brilliant light flashed overhead, and a figure descended from the sky on a shimmering energy platform. The guards raised their weapons, but before they could fire, a barrage of glowing, translucent projectiles rained down on them, knocking the guns from their hands.

  The figure landed gracefully, her long blonde ponytail swaying as she struck a pose. A few drones buzzed around her, their cameras focused on her every move.

  Isabella recognized her immediately—Glimmerstrike, a corporate hero from the metropolis. She had a reputation for putting on a good show—a rising star known for her flashy style and over-the-top theatrics, but whether she was actually a competent hero was another story.

  What the hell is she doing out in the slums?

  "Freeze, scumbags!" Glimmerstrike shouted, a confident grin spreading across her face. "Glimmerstrike is here, and it's lights out for you!"

  Isabella raised her hands in a show of surrender, her expression a mask of cool detachment. "What's a Metropolis Superhero doing all the way out here?"

  "Glad you asked," Glimmerstrike replied, her eyes gleaming. "See, I heard you guys were causing trouble, and I couldn't just sit by and let that happen. So, I'm here to put a stop to your little operation." She paused, her gaze sweeping over the scene before her. "Plus, the slums could really use a bit of a cleanup, don't you think?"

  Isabella narrowed her eyes.

  Now how did a corporate hero know what they were doing all the way out here in the slums? This couldn't have been a coincidence. She had to have an informant. Or maybe an insider. One of her men?

  Isabella looked back at the men. No, they were too afraid of her. She made sure of that.

  Glimmerstrike crossed her arms, the glowing energy around her solidifying into a series of crystalline spears. "What, did I surprise you? Bet you weren't expecting a hero to show up all the way out here."

  Isabella narrowed her eyes. "Not at all. I just find it odd that you're so concerned about us 'causing trouble,' as you put it. We're just trying to make a living, same as everyone else."

  Glimmerstrike scoffed. "Oh, please. Don't try to play the victim here. You're peddling stolen meds and God knows what else. You're a danger to society."

  Isabella smirked, stepping forward slowly. "Maybe. But who's going to save society from people like you? The corporate puppets who only care about their ratings and their bank accounts?"

  Glimmerstrike's smile faltered for a moment before she recovered. "That's rich, coming from a gangster. But it doesn't matter. You're finished. Surrender now, and maybe the courts will go easy on you."

  "The metropolis doesn't really persecute people like us, and you know it," Isabella shot back. "As long as none of the maintenance crew and volunteers go missing, they couldn't give less of a shit about the people living in the slums. The people up there are content to let us live our lives. It's a symbiotic relationship."

  "True," Glimmerstrike conceded, shrugging. "But that doesn't change the fact that you're under arrest. So, what's it going to be?"

  Isabella tilted her head, a smile spreading across her face. "How about we make a deal? You let us go, and we give you a cut of the profits. It's win-win. You get paid, and we continue our... operations."

  Glimmerstrike laughed, shaking her head. "You really think I'd agree to that? I'm a hero, not a crook."

  Isabella shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Suit yourself. But remember, you had a chance to walk away from this."

  She turned towards the hospital and blew a sharp whistle. "Bill! Get out here and show our guest some hospitality!"

  Glimmerstrike's drones shifted their focus to a tall, thin man who emerged from the shadows of the building. He had a pale, sunken face and thinning brown hair that he had combed over in an attempt to hide his receding hairline.

  The man called Bill cracked his neck, a twisted grin on his face. His eyes were a dull, muddy green that seemed to bore into her. He was wearing a stained lab coat over a pair of dirty jeans and a plain gray shirt, looking like a mad scientist straight out of a B-rated movie.

  "What's this then, Sartori?" he asked, his voice low and rough. "A hero from the Metropolis? And here I thought today would be boring." His grin widened, revealing yellowing teeth. "Well, well, well. Glimmerstrike, isn't it? What brings you to our little neck of the woods?"

  Glimmerstrike eyed the man warily. He had the air of a wild animal about him—dangerous, unpredictable. Her instincts told her to proceed cautiously, but her confidence and the need to make a spectacle for her viewers pushed her to be more aggressive. She put her hands on her hips and glared at the man.

  "Cut the small talk, creep. You and your buddies are under arrest," she declared, her voice strong and clear for the camera drones hovering nearby.

  The man chuckled, his eyes never leaving hers. "Is that so? And what exactly are we being arrested for? Practicing medicine in a place where there are no rules or regulations? Where the metropolis's laws don't apply, and we are free to help those who need it most?"

  "Don't try and justify your crimes, scumbag," Glimmerstrike shot back. "You're dealing in stolen medical supplies, among other things. That's illegal, no matter where you are."

  "Is it now?" the man replied, tilting his head to the side. "Last time I checked, there weren't any cops around to enforce the law. So, who's to say what's legal and what's not?"

  Glimmerstrike's patience was wearing thin, her need for action and showmanship growing stronger. She clenched her fists, the energy around her intensifying. "I am. And I say you're under arrest."

  Isabella rolled her eyes and started walking towards the truck. "This is getting boring. Bill, take care of her, will you? I have places to be."

  "Do you want me to kill her or bring her to you for your... experiments?" Bill asked, his tone casual, as if discussing the weather. "Metahuman organs would sell very well. Especially those of a Super."

  A shiver crawled down Glimmerstrike's spine, but she maintained her confident demeanor. She saw no weapons on him, and the guy looked pretty thin and lanky, but she knew that could all be deceiving.

  For this guy to be so brazen and confident, he must be a Metahuman, too.

  "Bring her to me," Isabella said, glancing back. "We'll have fun with her before we harvest her organs and dump whatever's left of her body in a ditch."

  "Got it," Bill replied, cracking his knuckles. He turned his attention back to Glimmerstrike, his grin widening. "Looks like you get to live for a while longer, Super. I wonder how long you'll last with us."

  Glimmerstrike's anger flared, her eyes narrowing as she prepared for a fight. "You're going to regret messing with me, creep."

  Isabella sighed dramatically. "Bill, if you please."

  The lanky man rushed forward, faster than Glimmerstrike anticipated. She tried to dodge, but his hand grabbed her face with surprising strength and forced her to the ground.

  She felt an odd tingling sensation where his skin touched hers, and she screamed as a searing pain coursed through her body. It was like her blood was on fire, her nerves frayed and raw.

  A feverish feeling overwhelmed her senses, and her vision blurred as the man called Bill crouched over her, his hand still firmly pressed against her face. She tried to move, to summon her energy constructs, but her limbs felt leaden, and her powers seemed just out of reach.

  She could hear his voice, low and mocking. "That's it, Super. Struggle all you want, but it won't do you any good. My power has you now, and there's no escape."

  Glimmerstrike's mind raced as she struggled against the agony that enveloped her. What was this man's power? How could he incapacitate her so easily? And how was she going to get out of this mess?

  The last thought she had before her consciousness faded was, "I'm not dying in a place like this."