The silence that followed was deafening.
Every board member sat frozen, the image of their heir, bruised, bleeding, and gasping, burned into their minds. The smell of fear, though invisible, clung to the room like smoke after a fire.
Rolan Travich's fury boiled over. He slammed his fist onto the table so hard that several pens rolled off and clattered to the floor.
"Find them! Now! Trace the signal, I want every security measure we have—" His voice cracked under the pressure of panic.
The IT team scrambled, typing furiously, but every attempt to intercept the feed was met with a mocking error message on their screens:
"Access Denied. Sit back and watch."
Yuron Travich, the president, wheezed from his seat, clutching the armrest as his chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths.
"Turn it off… for God's sake, turn it off!" he rasped, but there was no stopping the broadcast.
Back in the garage…
Joshua's whimpers echoed through the cold air. His confidence, his arrogance, had long since crumbled. The ropes dug into his skin with every twitch, each movement only tightening the bindings further.
The masked figures stood over him, motionless for a moment, letting the silence drag. That silence was louder than any words.
Then, one of the members moved. His shadow fell over Joshua's trembling form. When he crouched, the camera caught the hollow black eye sockets of his mask staring down at him.
"You spent your life stepping on others," His distorted voice cut through the tension, low and sharp. "Now you understand how it feels."
Joshua thrashed weakly. "P-please… don't—" His muffled plea dissolved into a sob.
The first punch landed. Hard enough to make the boardroom collectively flinch.
Then another.
And another.
Each blow was calculated, not wild. This was not chaos; it was punishment. Joshua's cries grew weaker, his threats turning into broken whimpers that echoed far beyond the garage walls.
Yanin stepped forward, her movements precise, and grabbed Joshua by the hair. She forced him to face the camera.
"Look at them," she said, voice like ice. "Look at your precious board. Look at the people who let you become this."
The camera zoomed in as Joshua's swollen eyes locked with the lens, tears streaking down his bloodied face.
Celestia crouched beside him, tilting her head as if mocking him. "Still think you're untouchable?"
The feed lingered on Joshua's face. On his fear, his shame, before the camera panned up to the masked figures standing behind him, their silhouettes towering like specters of vengeance.
Back at the boardroom…
The elites were no longer whispering. They were arguing, shouting over one another, panic replacing their polished façades.
"This is terrorism!"
"They're going to destroy us!"
"Where's security?!"
Rolan's phone rang. He answered it immediately, barking, "Talk to me!"
The voice on the other end stammered, "Sir, w-we can't locate the signal. Whoever's doing this… they're using military-grade encryption."
Rolan's face twisted with rage.
"Then hire someone who can break it!" he roared, hurling the phone across the room.
Yuron Travich wheezed louder, his face a ghastly shade of white. His hand trembled as he pointed at the screen.
"Stop this… or you'll doom us all…"
Then, as Joshua screamed on the feed, the old man's body gave out.
His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed sideways out of his chair, hitting the floor with a heavy thud.
"Father!" Rolan shouted, rushing to his side. The boardroom erupted in chaos. Some calling for medics, others frozen in shock. The paramedics stationed downstairs were summoned immediately, their radios crackling through the tension.
But the video kept playing. There was no mercy, no pause button to spare the Travich patriarch from watching his heir's humiliation. Even unconscious, Yuron's presence felt like a shattered monument lying across the room.
Back in the garage…
Celestia rose slowly, brushing imaginary dust from her robe. She looked down at Joshua's broken form and, with a voice dripping venom, spoke directly into the camera.
"This is the beginning. For every sin you buried, for every life you ruined, there will be a price. We, the vigilantes, will never quit. We'll never run. Consider this your first warning. "
Axel kicked the device, sending it sliding across the floor. The camera tilted, catching the last shot of the masked crew fading back into the shadows, leaving Joshua sobbing on the ground.
The feed cut to black.
Boardroom aftermath…
The screen's sudden darkness left an oppressive void in the room.
No one dared to move.
Rolan's breathing was harsh, his hands shaking as he gripped the edge of the table. The man who once ruled the room with his presence now looked like a cornered animal.
Medics rushed in, lifting Yuron Travich's limp body onto a stretcher. The old man's shallow breaths barely stirred the oxygen mask they placed on him. His exit from the room was as grim as the video they had just witnessed.
Mico Valeine sat perfectly still beside her father, her expression unreadable. To anyone watching, she was just another shocked observer. But inside, she was smiling.
Hehehe, she could practically smell the money that'll roll in the future. The Longhorn Insurance company was held mostly by Yuron. With his hospitalization along with Joshua's demise, there was no way the company wasn't going to collapse.
HAHAHAHA!
Next to Mico, her father kept a stoic face, his arms crossed with disappointment. Not in Mico's ability, but in the obvious gaps of the Longhorn's establishment.
He admired his daughter's ability. Mr. Valeine wasn't stupid. He knew about the whereabouts of Ravenveil. He simply wanted to see how his daughter would enact her justice.
Hm, maybe I should increase her allowance.