It was nighttime at Joker Roulette's alternative meeting place. Shadows stretched long across the dimly lit room, the only illumination coming from a flickering television screen and the pale moonlight filtering through half-closed blinds. The air smelled faintly of dust and old leather.
Milo sat on a couch, watching the news on the flickering screen. His fingers tapped rhythmlessly against the armrest, the only sign of his restlessness.
The broadcast reported a horrifying incident: several civilians had been brutally killed by a massive, savage man. The perpetrator was identified as Bog. The grainy security footage showed glimpses of the carnage—shattered storefronts, bloodstained pavement.
According to the report, Bog had vanished four months ago—only to resurface and bring chaos in his wake. The newscaster's voice trembled slightly as they described the scene.
Liam entered the room, his presence quiet but immediate. His boots made no sound against the worn carpet as he approached.
"Are you done talking?" Milo asked without taking his eyes off the screen. His voice was flat, but there was an edge beneath it.
"Yes. Gregory has already returned to his post," Liam replied. He stood beside the couch, watching the news report with detached interest.
"So, what did Gregory say about Narcisa?"
"She insisted that if I want her help, I need to meet her in person," Liam said, his tone unreadable. His expression didn't change, but his fingers flexed slightly at his sides.
Milo shook his head with a dry chuckle. "That girl is still as egotistic as ever. What are we going to do with her, boss?"
"Let her be for now," Liam said calmly. His gaze remained fixed on the television, where the news had shifted to footage of emergency responders at the scene.
"Alright," Milo said. He finally tore his eyes away from the screen and looked up at Liam. "Anyway, can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"You insisted on hiding your power because you're wary of Noah, right?" Milo asked. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees.
Liam nodded slightly.
"But if that's the case, why did you even agree to let him join us?"
"He was dangerous," Liam said. "That's true. But it's better to have him as an ally than an enemy. No matter how unstable the foundation is, as long as he doesn't bare his fangs at us, we shouldn't provoke him."
"I get it," Milo said with a sigh. He ran a hand through his hair. "We need to be careful dealing with him. Still, it's uncomfortable. I can't even tell why he wanted to join us in the first place."
"I have a rough idea," Liam said.
"Really? What is it?" Milo asked.
"This is just a guess," Liam said. "I might be completely wrong."
"It's fine. Just tell me." Milo said.
"He's like me in a way—calculated. So I think I understand what was going through his head. He was making preparations." Liam deducted.
"Preparations?" Milo repeated, frowning.
"That's all I can say for now." Liam said.
"But preparations for what?" Milo asked again.
"For the future," Liam said simply.
"Future?" Milo looked at him, puzzled.
Liam changed the subject. "Anyway, where did Ridley and Owen go?"
"Owen said he was hungry, so they went out to get food. They should be back soon."
They both glanced at the door, as if expecting it to open at any moment. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts.
---
Out on the city streets, Owen and Ridley walked side by side under the dim glow of streetlights. The night air was cool, carrying the distant sounds of traffic and the occasional shout from a late-night reveler. Most shops were closed, their darkened windows reflecting the flickering neon signs.
"Argh, so frustrating!" Owen complained, kicking a pebble across the sidewalk. It skittered into the gutter with a clatter. "All my favorite restaurants are closed! What's going on tonight? I wanted to celebrate my victory with some good food!"
"Stop whining," Ridley said, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. "Cup noodles are good enough for your stupid little victory."
"Don't mock my win, you stupid prick."
"It only happened because Gregory helped," Ridley said, rolling his eyes. "Don't get a big head."
"You wanna go, bitch?" Owen snapped, stopping in his tracks to glare at Ridley. His fists clenched at his sides.
"Back at you, muscle-for-a-brain," Ridley shot back, meeting his glare without flinching.
Their argument halted abruptly when a small figure stepped in front of them on the sidewalk. The boy was slight, barely coming up to Owen's chest, but the grin on his face was anything but childlike. His sharp teeth glinted in the dark, catching the faint light from a nearby streetlamp.
"Instead of fighting your own teammate," he said, tilting his head to the side, "why not try it with me?"
"Who is this brat?" Owen snorted, looking down at the boy with a mix of amusement and irritation. "Go away, kid. Don't mess with us."
"Wait, Owen," Ridley said, putting a hand on Owen's shoulder. His grip tightened slightly. "I've got a bad feeling about him."
"What?" Owen asked, shrugging off Ridley's hand. "Don't tell me you're scared of this brat?"
The shark-toothed boy smirked. "Looks like the tall guy's a lot smarter than you. That's right—I'm strong. If you bow your head to me, I'll let you live."
"Don't screw with me!" Owen shouted, his face flushing with anger. "Who do you think you are?"
He activated his power, his skin transforming into a black, metallic surface as hard as steel. The change rippled across his body, leaving him gleaming faintly under the streetlights.
Owen lunged forward, aiming to strike—but the boy dodged effortlessly, moving with unnatural speed. His laughter was high-pitched, almost giddy.
"I've been curious about your ability since I saw it," the shark boy said with an excited gleam in his eyes. "Your skin's hard as steel. Let's see which is stronger. Can I rip it apart with my teeth?"
The shark boy launched himself at Owen, who raised his arm on reflex to protect himself.
Moments later, blood dripped from the shark boy's mouth. Owen staggered back, clutching his arm where a chunk of flesh had been torn away. The metallic sheen of his skin was marred by the ragged wound, dark blood welling between his fingers.
"Turns out your skin isn't as tough as I expected," the boy said, licking his lips.
"Owen!" Ridley yelled as his friend dropped to the ground, his face twisted in pain.
Ridley rushed forward, but his body suddenly froze in place. His muscles locked, refusing to obey his commands.
"Sorry," a calm voice said behind him. Another man had appeared, his presence unnoticed until now. "But I can't let you interfere. Otherwise, he'll kill both of you."
---