Salvatore leaned forward in his chair, the glow from multiple ss illuminating the stark tours of his face. The dimly lit room, lined with shelves of archaid modern stific paraphernalia, was his boratory—the hub of his operations and the birthpce of his greatest creations. Salvatore watched the videos his Adrenomancers had sent him, analyzing the ses frame by frame.

  His fingers danced across the keyboard, pulling up footage after footage, studying the recs minutely. The Mad Chemist paused occasionally whenever a signifit detail occurred, rewinding the files and repyiioedly. Hours passed as Salvatore immersed himself wholly into the analysis.

  The fight footage pyed on a loop, but it wasn't the heroics that caught his eye—no, it was the gear.

  "The slums 't cim credit for such craftsmanship," he muttered to himself, scrutinizing the sleek design of Axion's bodysuit. "Too refined. Let's see who you've been talking to."

  Its tours and fabrited towards a specialized teething akin to the metropolis' fi. Such funality, paired with aesthetic appeal, required a highly sophisticated manufacturer. Salvatore khe signature of every major tech pyer iropolis, and this suit...it sparked reition.

  He cross-referehe suit's design with his exteabase of gear worn by metropolis heroes. His work of informants and his own endeavors had amassed a treasure trove of suformation, a byproduct of his fasation with those who dared to don es and masks in the name of justice.

  With a few swift keystrokes, he filtered through the entries until he found a match.

  "There," he excimed softly. "Dynatedustries. They pride themselves oing gear for the elites. So, how did a slum hero acquire one of their top-tier suits?"

  The manufacturer specialized in nanoweave fibers, a favorite among heroes who prioritized mobility and fort. Dynatech's produ line was famously guarded aricted—accessible to only the metropolis' most esteemed superheroes.

  Salvatore recalled an infamous sdal in which a group of aspiring rookies attempted to hato the pany's systems, seeking access to their premium products. Needless to say, Dynatech's termeasures dispatched their intruders swiftly.

  Only someone well-ected within Dynatech's inner circle would receive equipment from the exclusive manufacturing lines. Salvatore's i piqued—this heroine exhibited es beyond her limited background. Axion's ins revealed no remarkable achievements or aplishments.

  "Let's dig a bit deeper. Who did you meet, Axion?"

  His curiosity piqued, Salvatore turned his attention to Axion's helmet. The design was unmistakable now that he knew what to look for. Only one pany crafted such sophisticated gear—OptiMax Defense, an exclusive supplier to the metropolis military. The Ultimate Guardians themselves favored their iic cyber-helmets.

  Salvatore recalled his unsuccessful attempts to procure their test cutting-edge teax Defense denied him—their supply was strictly reserved for the premier metropolis superhero teams and military personnel. No exceptions.

  To have both Dynatech's bodysuit and OptiMax's cyber-helmet was a signifit feat.

  A slum-dweller could never afford such gear—unless, in truth, this heroine was a metropolis hero masquerading as a slum viginte. Salvatore eaihe idea—could the Ultimate Guardians have pheir assets amidst the slums?

  No—too costly. Metropolis superheroes never risked their lives to protect a slum. Even then Ultimate Guardians cked the drive and motivation to associate with slum-dwellers. Too privileged. Axion's heroic deeds tradicted Ultimate Guardians' apathetic ideologies—Salvatore was certairopolis involvement did not py a role.

  Another possibility resurfaced—Dynated OptiMax had rogue employees. Someoly provided the heroih gear and armor. Salvatore could not pinpoint the e—su opportunity was unpreted. Dynated OptiMax Defense prided themselves on loyalty—their employees had zero motive for itting corporate espionage. Salvatore could not deduce a ving theory.

  But ohis is certain... Someone was funding her—someone powerful.

  Question was: who acquired the resources and fuhem towards her? Salvatore had an inkling suspi—Virgil. But the viginte was no saint.

  No. Salvatore ruled Virgil out—he had no affiliation with Dynatech or OptiMax Defense. Moreover, Virgil cked the financial capabilities to sponsor her. Whoever aided her possessed signifit influence or wealth. Salvatore smirked—now things became even more fasating.

  An unknown beor supported her, equipping her with Dynated OptiMax Defense's premiere teologies. Who did Axio during her early heroics?

  Salvatore needed more leads—more evidence. He leaned ba his chair, steepling his fingers.

  "Who are you, Axion? And who's bag your py?" he whispered, the gears in his mind turning. This wasn't just a matter of finding a rogue superhero in his territory; this was a game of es, of influehat stretched into the very heart of the metropolis.

  The thought didn't sit well with Salvatore. He thrived on trol, on being the one pulling the strings. An unknown pyer with resources and tech at their disposal? That was a threat to his dominion, an anomaly in his meticulously structed order.

  "No matter," he decided, a cold resolve hardening in his eyes. "Every mystery be unraveled, every secret exposed."

  Salvatore wasn't petty—he uood his limits. Axion posed no immediate danger—her efforts insequential and minuscule. Regardless, his intuitioed him—there was more at stake now than just capturing a rogue superhero. Salvatore sensed an unseen hand y, a cealed agenda y dormah the surface.

  For the first time in years—Salvatore experienced uainty. His foray into the slum yielded ued surprises. Initially, his pns sisted of a simple domination—a solidation of the metropolis' leftovers. The slums were the perfect breeding grounds—untouched, uncultured.

  He could have any number of potential didates for his Adrenomancer program—to test his formu without repercussion. Unlimited opportunities. Salvatore's aspirations did ail subjugating the metropolis—only its castoffs. Simple—unplicated.

  Now, a wildcard was tossed onto the chessboard—and Salvatore disliked surprises. He appreciated structure and symmetry. Chaos disrupted his order and introduced variables—variables Salvatore didn't at for.

  "No matter," Salvatore repeated his earlier statement. "Every variable has its pce—every pawn must py their part."

  Salvatore typed a series ands and opened a and prompt window. Accessing his secured server, Salvatore initiated a search protocol.

  Setting aside his preoccupatiarding Axion's beor, Salvatore focused on the sed variable—Axion herself. Dealing with Gravikinesis proved problematic—Salvatore's Adrenomancers cked the proper termeasures. If her capabilities were anythiely close to what the leader of the Ultimate Guardians, Prime, could achieve...

  "Time to even the odds," Salvatore murmured as he ehe relevant keywords. His software algorithms sieved through official and underground databases alike—bringing forth a plethora of data.

  Finding any relevant informatiarding telekiic ravikiic phenomenons was a long shot, but Salvatore wasn't above expl unventional avenues.

  Within mere moments, his algorithm produced a promising lead—a research paper titled "Tidal Force Sensitivity Index" authored by an obscure stist named Edith Weiss.

  The name was o him, an unon occurrence for someone who prided himself on knowing every promi researcher in his field. Salvatore downloaded the dot and proceeded to s the tents. Within the opening paragraph, his eyebrows rose—gravikinesis, the manipution of graviton particles.

  Salvatore was a chemist—physid quantum meics were a hobby of his—but a corretioween tidal forces aa-abilities? Salvatore had never entered research so specific—so detailed. The publish date was ret, a finding that only added to the allure.

  It wasn't just the tent that intrigued him but the ptform it resided on—shared through the same undergrouworks he frequented, meant for those who had been cast out by the city's stific elite.

  As he read further, his eyes widened upon seeing the name of the research subject—Axion.

  Salvatore abruptly stood up from his chair. For the first time in years, his pulse quied. His algorithm uhed a gold mine. Salvatore immediately itted the findings ahodology of the study to memory. Every detail. Every nuance. He didn't questioh Weiss's credibility—Axion's capabilities validated her research.

  But more importantly, now he was almost certain who Axion's sponsor was—Edith Weiss herself.

  Salvatore's fingers flew across the keyboard as he initiated a search for anythiing to this Edith Weiss. His algorithm brought forth a list of profiles—information spanning from her educational credentials to her employment history.

  "Former biogeicist employed by Metropolis' leading pharmaceutical pany," Salvatore read aloud. The title and job description indicated a promi researcher and an iial position—within the upper echelons.

  Dr. Edith Weiss, it seemed, ariah among her peers, a genius whose brilliance was marred by her btant disregard for the boundaries deemed sacrosanct by the servative fas withiropolis's stific elite. Her methods and research were deemed too radical—too troversial.

  Salvatrihis Edith Weiss had a familiar story. Much like his past self.

  He tinued his iigation—His ss lit up with tab after tab of meticulously anized data that peeled back the yers of her life. He discovered her brillian geid Metahuman research, a mind potentially as sharp as his own but directed towards the secrets of human evolution.

  Weiss's most ambitious projelog the secret to the artificial creation of the Metahuman genome—resulted iermination of her trad her standing within the stifiunity. Her research had crossed the proverbial line—Weiss had gooo far and disregarded moral ahical codes.

  Branded a hoax, her theories were mocked as the delusions of a madwoman. Her sponsors abandoned her—casting her aside and stripping her of her reputation and academic credentials.

  "Project Genesis—Geically Engineered Metahuman Individuals..." Salvatore had heard rumardiahuman experimentations—but imate source ever surfaced. Until now, it seemed.

  Salvatore's mind raced with possibilities. If Weiss had mao unlock the secrets of the Metahuman gehen the implications were staggering. It wasn't just about Axion anymore; it was about the potential to wield power on a scale previously unimagihe ability to create Metahumans, to shape the very essence of human potential and evolution, rize worth any risk.

  As he pieced together the timeline of Weiss's career, Salvatore discovered her exile, a punishmeed out by the city-state's officials for her obstinad her refusal to abandon her quest.

  Weiss willingly fled the metropolis—esg punishment and leaving behind her old life. Salvatore hypothesized her sponsors threatened legal repercussions and criminal proceedings—a possibility sistent with the metropolis' strict regutions and g rules.

  But more intriguing was her migration to the slums—Salvatore couldn't imagine anyone willingly choosing the squalor and poverty within the slum's fines. Unless...Weiss relocated iionally. Salvatore had assumed her banishment erma—an exile that forced her into perma dispt. He residered—perhaps her flight nned.

  The timing icious, but after thinking about it further, he realized that just like him, Weiss figured that the slum-dwellers presented a unique popution pool—perfect subjects for her troversial research. Salvatore could respect Weiss's iy—she'd found the ideal subjects—away from the metropolis's eyes and ws while still being close enough to reliably acquire any supplies and materials from sources who hadn't abandoned her.

  Sources like Dynated OptiMax, perhaps.

  panies Weiss likely had a past retionship with prior to her exile. Salvatore wasn't surprised—wealthy, prestigious panies such as Dynated OptiMax had no issue breaking their tracts and morals as long as profit was involved.

  Salvatore admired Weiss's cleverness. Her isotion was her salvation. Exiled to the slums, Weiss had found her sanctuary. Her brilliant mind would have no problem adjusting to the ramshackle enviro, especially sihe metropolis readily discarded her.

  The more Salvatore learned about Weiss's exile, the more he uood the depth of her obsession. She was a fellow disgraced genius—a woman who, much like himself, pursued goals no ventional mind could prehend. She sought knowledge and truth—unafraid of crossing boundaries and fag the iable backsh.

  Salvatore approved—Weiss had earned his admiration. But more than that, her expertise and research were invaluable. He craved Weiss's intelled expertise—if her research taihe secrets of Metahumans and their genes...

  Axion was no longer important—the slums itself mattered no longer.

  No. Salvatore desired Weiss and her researothing else. Finding her and g her was now his ultimate goal—at all costs.

  He pted a multitude of strategies—his objectives shifted. Reag for his smartphone, Salvatore dialed a number. Seds ter, a masked face appeared on the s.

  "Mirage. I have an important mission for you. Find and tra individual named Edith Weiss. She's somewhere in the slums. Retrieve her—Alive."

  Salvatore termihe call and began devising a rategy.

  Those five Adrenomancers weren't going to be enough to capture Axion and Weiss—not if Virgil intervened.

  No. Salvatore foresaw the need for a more substantial force. He initiated another phone call. Moments passed, and his Head of Operations at the other facility answered.

  "Mr. Salvatore. How we assist you today?"

  Salvatore allowed his lips to curl into a grin.

  "Luca. Ready a transport—bring a hundred Adrenomancers. I'll send you the details."