The slums had a way of swallowing things whole: dreams, hopes, and sometimes entire buildings. The old police station was one such relic, a testament to a bygone era when w and order meant something, back when these slums were part of a thriving city that paved the way for the metropolis that stood today.

  Now the building stood as a rusted reminder, slowly deg into the earth. A hollow husk whose halls and chambers once echoed with purpose and justice. The barred windows and doors no longer provided security or safety to anyone. No one was going to e to their rescue here. Not anymore.

  Edith approached the entrance, her heels clig against the cracked pavement. Each step felt like a itment, a point of urn. She hesitated at the entrance, her fingers brushing the etal of the door handle.

  This is it. The man inside could be the key to everything.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped into the dimly lit interior.

  Ihe air smelled of old paper and dust, a st that took Edith back to her days iropolis, in her pristine b. But this was no b. Old cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and dirt and debris littered the floor. The windows were cracked and filthy, letting in only tiny shafts of light through the grime. The paint on the walls peeled and chipped. The whole pce reminded her of an abaomb.

  Her eyes adjusted to the dimness, taking in the faded wanted posters and photographs that adorhe walls, their faces staring back at her. Names and dates of arrests aences were scrawled beh each, written in barely legible script. Many of the entries were crossed out.

  A thin yer of dust coated everything in sight. Even the few pieces of furniture that remained seemed untouched, colleg yers upon yers of dirt. The only sign of life was the trail of fresh footprints leading deeper into the building.

  Edith followed the footprints to a stairwell, asding carefully to the sed floor. The smell of musty air intensified, and she wrinkled her the unpleasant odor. At the top of the stairs, she found a single wooden door, slightly ajar. Beyond it y a rge room filled with various desks, chairs, ets, and filing ets. The windows were boarded shut, blog most of the natural light from entering. It was impossible to tell whether this had once been an office or a ste area.

  She turned on her fshlight, shining it around the space. As expected, more boxes, files, and paperwork lihe shelves along the walls. This pce had probably served as some kind of records room at one point, though what records those might have been, she couldn't guess.

  Motes of dust floated zily in the air as the light moved. On one wall of the city, dotted with red marks and scribbles. There were circles and lines drawn everywhere, eg different locations to each other. Some pces were circled multiple times. Other parts of the city were left birely. None of the writing made any seo her. Edith's gaze traveled over the markings, but she couldn't piece together what they might mean.

  She was so engrossed in studying the map that she almost fot why she'd e. With a start, she snapped her attention away and focused on searg for the man she'd e to find.

  She slowly paced the length of the room, her footsteps eg loudly in the silence. She listened ily, trying to pick out the sounds of anyone else moving about. There was nothing, only her breathing. The building creaked occasionally, but she suspected those noises came from the wind blowing outside.

  No, she was definitely not alone here.

  She spotted another set of footprints leading to an open doorway. She crept forward cautiously, stopping at the threshold. A hallway stretched ahead, ending at a T-shaped interse. It was dark, except for the beam of her fshlight and the faint glow on one side of the interse.

  Edith walked to the edge of the corridor, peering into the gloom beyond. She squinted, straining her eyes, but she could make out little detail. The door at the end of the passage y wide open. Light spilled out from within, illuminating a se of the floor. Shadows moved around ihe room, but she couldn't tell what they beloo. Whoever it was didn't seem aware of her presence. Yet.

  Gulping, she forced herself to walk down the hall, her steps slow aant. She clicked her fshlight off as she approached the door. She could hear someone whistling a soft tune ihe room. It sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite pce it.

  When she reached the doorway, she stopped. The shadows danced about on the wall, and the whistling ceased.

  Alright, now or never. Hope whoever is in there is the one I'm looking for.

  Edith stepped across the threshold.

  Seated behind a worn-out desk at the far end of the room was a man who seemed as much a part of the station as the walls themselves. His hair was u, and his bearded face bore the telltale signs of a hard life, with scars and wriched deep into his skin. A small scar split the er of his mouth, and his eyes glowed eerily in the dim lighting.

  He was dressed in a long, dark trench coat over a pin grey shirt, and a battered cowboy hat, the brim pulled low over his face. His disheveled appearance gave him the air of a vagrant or drunkard, yet Edith sehere was far more to this man thahe eye. He had an aura about him—the same sense of danger she'd felt upoering the abandoned police station.

  In his hands was a rge revolver, which he was meticulously ing with a rag. The on gleamed in the flickering dlelight, ah felt a chill run down her spi the sight.

  As she ehe room, he didn't seem to aowledge her presence, tinuing with his work in silence.

  Edith cleared her throat, trying to mask her nervousness. "I've heard stories about you, Virgil Maddox. Or do you still prefer to go by our old moniker—Backfire"

  Without looking up, he responded, his voice a gravelly drawl, "Stories tend to exaggerate."

  "Perhaps, but there's something to be said about a man who oried to keep pea these streets." She took a tentative step closer. "I'm sure you recall those days, if your reputation is accurate."

  Virgil finally gnced in her dire, the glow in his eyes seemingly peing her soul. "Those days are over," he muttered, turning his attention back to his revolver. "And you should get lost."

  "Why's that?" She challenged.

  "This isn't a pce food folks to wander aimlessly. Especially a beautiful young dy such as yourself." He chuckled dryly. "The gangs around here, they'll eat you alive and spit out the bones."

  She remained uerred and pressed on. "I'd hardly sider myself helpless, Mr. Maddox. And I've been living in the slums for over a year now. I know how things work. Why do you think I sought you out?"

  Virgil paused his work a his revolver dowing his elbows oable. "What exactly is your business?" His tone held a hint of curiosity, and she tched onto the opportunity to draw him further into versation.

  She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "I need your help."

  He leaned ba his chair, studying her with an iy that made her skin prickle. "A lot of folks do," he replied, his tone dripping with skepticism.

  She stepped closer, trying to assert some sembnce of trol over the situation. "I've been w on a project, ohat could ge the fate of the slums. But I need someoh your... expertise."

  Virgil scoffed, shaking his head. "Sirlie. That's not my problem. Whatever you're pnning, I ain't ied." He picked his gun back up and resumed ing.

  "You haven't even heard what I want from you," Edith insisted.

  She didn't e this far to be brushed aside by this arrogant gunslinger who hid in a dipidated police station. "How do you know you don't want to get involved if you don't even have any clue what's going on?"

  "Trust me, I've seen this all before." He grumbled as he tinued polishing the barrel. After a brief pause, his expression hardened. "If you've e to try and recruit me, you're wasting both our time."

  "No, that's not it. I mean, I do want your help, but not for what you're probably thinking," she quickly crified.

  Virgil shrugged indifferently. "Fiell me, what exactly is so important that you'd track me down to this run-down dump?"

  "I've e on behalf of someone—A girl. She raining, guidance," Edith expirying not to sound desperate.

  Virgil scoffed, shaking his head. "Ain't my problem, dy."

  Edith frowned, her frustration rising. "But you could help her, and with the right training, she could bee someoo rely on. Someone who could make a differen the slums."

  He gave her a derisive gnce as he stopped ing his guing the revolver back down oable with a thud. "And what makes you think I'd waste my time with some snot-nosed kid?"

  "Because she's special," Edith pressed on, her voice firm. "She's the first metahuman born in the slums."

  That seemed to have grabbed his attention. For the first time siheir versation began, Virgil appeared intrigued. "Is that so?"

  Edith nodded vigorously.

  Teically, she didn't lie. Fii was the first metahuman who was born in the slums, she just wasn't born as o instead made into one.

  "It's true," Edith reassured him. "I found her by happenstance. Right now, she's a diamond in the rough. She needs someone qualified to train her in bat. Isn't that what you used to do? Train people to fight criminals?"

  Virgil chuckled grimly. "Train people to fight. Hah. Yeah, sure." He lowered his head, gazing at the revolver resting in front of him. "Haven't done anything like that in years. Those days are long gone."

  "Then sider this an opportunity to return to what you do best. Help us. Please." Edith pleaded, sensing she may be making progress. She just needed a bit more leverage. Something to vince him.

  Virgil shook his head, pig his gun back up and iing it closely. "Fet it. I'm not ied. Don't want any part in whatever you're up to."

  He sounded determined, but his torayed a hint of something else. Was it regret? Regret that he hadn't gotten out of his rut for a while.

  Maybe there was still a ce to vince him.

  "Wait," Edith interjected before Virgil could resume ing his firearm. "If not for yourself, will you at least sider helping us for the sake of the slums? You 't tell me you've fotten what you tried to do here a decade ago. Or how that ended?" She took a gamble and hoped her intuition was correct.

  At the mention of the word 'end', Virgil flihe hand holding his revolver trembled slightly, and he quickly set the on back down. He kept his gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to meet her eyes.

  Edith tinued, sensing a possible opening. "Look, I get why you're not eager to get back out there. What you did, trying to create a police for the slums, it was ambitious. Stupid, some might even say. But the fact you tried speaks volumes. You cared. That's more than most people cim to have ever done."

  Virgil didn't respond, but the tension in his posture rexed somewhat.

  She tinued, "Maybe this isn't the exact role you envisioned for yourself, but it's something. Think of how many lives you'd be able to ge. This is your ce at redemption. A ake a difference where you failed st time." She paused, letting her words sink in.

  Finally, Virgil looked back up at her, eyes narrowed.

  "I don't need redemption," he retorted, his tone harsh. "And I don't owe the slums anything."

  Edith sighed, her hopes faltering. She'd misjudged him. Virgil was still too caught up in his own guilt and self-pity to care about the greater good. If she was going to persuade him, she would o approach this differently.

  She bowed her head slightly. "You're right. You don't owe them anything." She took a deep breath. "But if not for the slums, then do it for yourself. Let this be yacy."

  Virgil frowned, his brow furrowing. "What're you talking about?"

  "I'll be blunt. I have es. I get you bato the metropolis. ste. You restart your life," Edith offered.

  A look of disbelief fshed across Virgil's face, followed by fusion, and finally, curiosity. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

  "I prove it." She rummaged through her purse and held up a data pad. "Check my credentials, search the . Dr. Edith Weiss. I've got the means to make that happen."

  He eyed her suspiciously. "That's ly reassuring. If you're so well-ected, then why are you here in the slums?"

  Edith ched her jaw. She should've known he'd ask. Of course he'd be skeptical.

  She exhaled deeply, weighing her options. "Fine. I'll be ho. I got exiled. Just like you, I got banished for stepping on too many toes." She ched her fists. "My research was deemed too dangerous, and I was framed for some serious crimes. We have a lot more in on than you think."

  Virgil raised an eyebrow, seemingly pting her words. She hoped that she'd finally said something that resonated with him. He seemed like the type that would uand another outcast.

  After a long silence, he finally spoke. "Let's pretend, for a moment, that you're telling the truth." He waved his hand dismissively. "Why bother me a art? Why not find some other washed-up nobody? I'm sure there are others out there who could teach her the ropes of killing people. Why e to me specifically?"

  "Because I wao be a hero, not a vilih pressed. "Fii is unique. She could be the catalyst for real ge. With the proper training, she could bee a hero to the slums, a symbol for those trapped here. All we need is an experienced mentor to guide her." She put emphasis on the word "experienced" hoping to vey the urgency of the situation.

  Virgil sighed, running his fihrough his brown hair. He reached for his bottle of whiskey sitting atop the desk, taking a swig. After setting the liquor back down, he gnced over at Edith, eyeing her closely. "Suppose I agree to help you, hypothetically. How long are you talking about here?"

  "It depends. Six months to a year, minimum. If you accept, I'd want you to relocate to my facility, the Aether ic. We'll work there i and give her adequate training without being disturbed. This wouldn't be easy, but you'd be pensated for your trouble. I promise you that."

  She pulled a roll of ChitCreds out of her bag, pg the thick sta his desk. "sider this an advaake the time to decide a me know ter."

  Virgil stared at the money, a flicker of temptation visible in his eyes. But his expression shifted, and he frowned. "So, what about you, Doctor? What's your endgame? Power? Reition? Redemption?"

  Edith paused, taken aback. She hadn't sidered him askihat question. What reason would vince him? She already revealed some of her personal information. Could she trust him? Did she have a choice?

  Then she realized the irony of the situation. Here she was, trying to vince him to take a leap of faith, yet she didn't trust him enough to answer holy.

  She rubbed the back of her neck, exhaling wearily. "That's right. I'm doing it fnition. She's also going to be my ticket bato the metropolis. You're not the only oh a chip on their shoulder. I'm doing this for myself too."

  "Well, aren't we the selfish bunch," Virgil quipped dryly, giving her a wry smile. He tapped his finger against his thoughtfully, leaning ba his chair.

  He then rummaged through his coat pocket and pulled out a silver , flipping the object between his thumb and index finger. Without saying a word, he flipped the up into the air, ah watched as it spun, turning end over end before nding in the palm of his hand.

  Virgil spped the against his wrist, cealing it with his other hand, before extending his arm toward Edith.

  She stared at him, perplexed. "What is this?"

  "Call it."

  "Are you joking?"

  "Humor me, Doc. Call it," he urged, his voice calm.

  Edith hesitated before making her sele. "Uh... tails."

  He drew his hand away, revealing the result. Sure enough, a miniature pair of wings adorhe 's surface.

  Virgil pocketed the , grinning faintly. "Looks like luck's on your side. Today, at least. Alright, I'll py ball, doc." He snatched the stacks of ChitCreds off his desk, shoving the bills into his coat pockets. "When do we start?"

  The sudden shift in attitude caught Edith by surprise, and she blinked several times, unsure of how to process this ued development. She'd assumed it would take more persuadiher she had a knack for ving people, or he was drunk. Maybe he really was a lonely man, desperate for panionship. Whatever the case, she'd succeeded.

  "Um, that's... soohan expected." She mumbled. "Do you mean you're seriously sidering the offer?"

  Virgil grabbed his revolver and whiskey bottle off the desk, standing up. He pced his cowboy hat on his head and adjusted the brim. Theuro face her. "Yeah. Like I said, we talk details ter. First, let's meet your protege." He tilted his head curiously, arg a brow. "What did you say her name was again?"

  "Fii," she answered.

  "Weird name," Virgil muttered, giving her a curious gnce. "Fiake me to her."

  Edith suppressed a smirk, feelied. "Of course. Follow me."

  The pair headed downstairs to the lobby, her saying a word.

  The silence was awkward, ah struggled to maintain her posure. She'd vinced Virgil to join them, but she still had to vince Fii to accept his training. And what if Fii rejected their proposal? That would throw everything into chaos. He was a gamble.

  Hopefully, it wasn't a bad one.

  Just as Edith was about to ask him another question, a sudden crash echoed through the room, cutting her off. The heavy wooden door of the station was kicked open, splintering wood and dust flying into the dimly lit room.

  In the doorway stood a group of armed gang members, matg leather jackets bearing a skull with horns and kif—Reaper Posse.

  Oh great.

  The leader of the gang, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a bushy beard and a ponytail, strode fidently into the lobby, fnked oher side by his ckeys. He carried a spiked baseball bat loosely in one hand, twirling it absentmindedly as he surveyed his surroundings. Behind him, his gang fanned out, spreading throughout the lobby. The majority of the Posse were armed with pipe pistols, but a few brandished knives and switchbdes.

  "Well, what do we have here?" The gang leader sneered, fshing his crooked teeth. "Looks like you're right, Carl. The hot doctor from that ic really did e to our part o' town." His beady eyes gleamed with menace as he leered at Edith, a siing smile stretg across his face.

  The gang member called Carl snickered, giving her a lecherous stare. "Yep, ain't no mistaking those curves."

  The other thugs leered at Edith. "Looks like we're gonna have some fun tonight, boys."

  Edith shuddered, g her hands into tight fists.

  They'd been a stant thorn in her side ever since she arrived in the slums, harassing her relentlessly, demanding she submit to them, ive them access to her ic. They were opportunists, and scum. She loathed them all.

  As the gang members stepped further into the room, their eyes adjusting to the dim light, they seemed to finally notice Virgil.

  He remained motionless a few steps behind her, seemingly unfazed by the intrusion. But Edith noticed the subtle shift in his posture, the way his hand moved ever so slightly towards the revolver at his side.

  The gang leader sneered, his eyes flig betweeh and Virgil. "Who's this? Your bodyguard? He don't look like much."

  Virgil set the whiskey bottle in his haly on the ter, taking a casual step forward in front of her, his movements smooth and deliberate.

  "Something like that," he remarked casually, tilting his head toward the thug. "Would you kindly mind removing yourselves from my property? We have busio attend to."