Scene 1
Chapter 10 – Scene 1
"Number 13"
The city lights blurred beneath him.
Ace moved like a shadow cutting across the skyline — leaping from rooftop to rooftop, coat snapping behind him, boots barely touching concrete before launching again. To anyone watching from below, it would look like he was flying.
He tapped his earpiece.
"Dispatch, that makes five," Ace said casually. "Armed robbery. Car theft. Two assaults. One attempted kidnapping."
He flipped over a gap between buildings, landing smoothly on a ledge.
"And funny enough," he added with a small smirk, "every single one tied to the mafia. Busy night."
Static crackled.
Then his phone buzzed.
Ace caught it mid-air as he jumped again.
URGENT – POLLSMOOR MAXIMUM SECURITY
We need Ace immediately.
Rio has stopped taking his medication.
Ace froze mid-step.
His eyes sharpened.
"…What?"
The city wind rushed around him.
He didn't respond to dispatch.
He just bent his knees—
—and launched.
This time, he wasn't gliding.
He was moving.
Buildings blurred past him in streaks of light. Traffic below became lines of red and white. The air tore around his body as he accelerated toward Pollsmoor Prison.
Something was wrong.
He could already feel it.
The prison came into view.
Floodlights flickered violently.
The massive concrete structure trembled, windows rattling, sirens blaring as guards scrambled across the yard.
The ground itself vibrated beneath their boots.
Ace landed hard at the front gate.
The moment his feet touched the pavement—
He felt it.
Pressure.
Heavy. Crushing.
A wave of invisible force pushing outward from deep inside the building.
Telekinesis.
Strong.
Too strong.
A warden rushed toward him, sweat beading down his forehead.
"Thank God you're here."
"How bad?" Ace asked.
The building shook again.
"He stopped taking his pills this morning," the warden said. "We don't know why. Anxiety maybe. Mental health. He won't speak to us."
Ace's jaw tightened.
"You know his ranking," the warden added.
Ace nodded slowly.
"Rio," he said quietly. "Highest recorded mutation in history."
The warden swallowed.
"He broke the 1–10 scale."
Ace finished it.
"Number 13."
And unlike most telekinetics—
"Stronger than Dr. Morning-Star."
Another violent tremor rippled through the prison.
Glass cracked somewhere down the hall.
"Take me to him," Ace said.
They moved through reinforced corridors.
Past steel doors.
Past some of the most dangerous criminals in the country.
Inmates pressed themselves against cell bars as Ace walked by.
Some stared in fear.
Some in hatred.
Some in awe.
Then—
They reached it.
A massive reinforced glass door.
Inside the chamber stood a man in a prison uniform.
Long white hair falling past his shoulders.
Back turned.
The air around him shimmered like heat rising from asphalt.
You couldn't see his face.
But you could feel him.
Ace stopped walking.
His expression darkened.
For just a second—
Anger flashed across his face.
Then it was gone.
"Open it," Ace said.
The warden hesitated.
"We can't go inside," he admitted. "The air pressure in there… it's like walking into a storm. A normal human would collapse."
Ace rolled his shoulders once.
"I'm not normal."
The door slid open.
The moment he stepped in—
It hit him.
Invisible weight slammed into his body.
His muscles tightened.
Breathing became heavier.
Even standing upright required effort.
The entire room vibrated gently — as if gravity itself had been distorted.
Rio didn't turn around.
Ace forced a small smile.
"Hey."
No response.
"Why'd you stop taking your pills?"
The air pulsed again.
"You're off your medication," Ace continued calmly. "Your power's going crazy."
Finally—
Rio spoke.
His voice was quiet. Distant.
"I'm better without them."
He turned slightly, though his face remained half-hidden.
"I don't need them."
The walls creaked.
"I've just been feeling down."
Ace took another step forward.
It felt like walking through deep water.
"That's not how it works," Ace said gently.
Rio's jaw tightened.
"I'm fine."
The room shook harder.
Metal chairs lifted slightly off the ground.
"You're not fine," Ace said firmly.
He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't threaten him.
"You need the pills. Not because we're scared of you."
The pressure in the room flickered.
"But because we want you at your best."
Ace's voice softened.
"We don't fear you, Rio."
The floating metal slowly lowered.
"We care about you."
Silence.
The air grew less violent.
After a moment, Rio finally turned enough for his eyes to be visible.
They weren't angry.
They were tired.
"…You still play darts?" Rio asked quietly.
Ace smiled.
"Only if I'm winning."
A small pause.
"What if," Ace continued, "you take your medication… and later, we throw a few rounds? Like old times."
Rio stared at him.
Searching his face.
For fear.
For judgment.
He found neither.
The invisible pressure slowly faded.
The weight lifted.
Rio extended his hand.
"Deal."
Ace stepped forward and shook it.
The room went still.
Completely still.
Outside, guards gasped as the tremors stopped.
Ace walked toward the exit.
Behind him, Rio reached for the small cup sitting on the metal shelf.
He picked up the pills.
And swallowed them.
As Ace stepped out of the chamber, the prison lights stabilized.
The building stood firm again.
The warden exhaled in relief.
"Thank you."
Ace didn't answer.
He just looked back once at the reinforced glass.
Number 13.
Strongest mutant on record.
And all he needed—
Was someone who didn't treat him like a weapon.
Ace adjusted his gloves.
"Tell him I expect a rematch."
Then he disappeared into the night.
Chapter 10 – Scene 2
"You Don't See Me"
The hospital room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Emma sat alone on the edge of the bed, the heart monitor beeping softly beside her. The night lights from the city bled through the window.
Her grandparents had just left.
Their words still echoed.
"It's for your own good."
"You can't go back there."
"Those people aren't safe."
Emma clenched her fists.
"They're scared of me," she whispered to herself. "They don't need me. They just fear what I can do."
Her breathing became uneven.
"They think I don't feel scared too."
Tears formed in her eyes.
"They banned me from seeing Mr. Morning-Star… from seeing Dr. Morning-Star…"
Her voice cracked.
"…And Aya."
She stood up.
"My best friend. The only person who understands me."
Her jaw tightened.
"You know what? Screw this."
She wiped her tears roughly.
"If I'm not allowed to see my family…"
Her eyes glowed faintly.
"…then I'll go to them."
The window slid open.
Wind rushed into the room.
Emma stepped onto the ledge.
For a moment, she hesitated.
Then she jumped.
And flew.
Cut to—
The Morning-Star Mansion.
Warm lights filled the grand living room. Students gathered around as Mr. and Dr. Morning-Star stood proudly beside Mandy.
Bruno clapped from the back, smiling.
Zero, Jude, Mark, Beth, and Rose applauded warmly.
The students whispered excitedly.
Dr. Morning-Star stepped forward.
"I'd like to officially welcome our newest teacher."
Mandy smiled, slightly nervous but glowing.
"A few years ago," she said honestly, "I wasn't in the best place in my life. I made mistakes. I lost my direction."
She took a breath.
"But now… my life has turned around. And I'm proud to stand here."
Her eyes softened.
"I'm honored to help guide the next generation."
The students cheered.
Mandy glanced briefly toward Mr. Morning-Star.
"And… thank you. To the people who gave me a second chance."
Mr. Morning-Star leaned closer and whispered:
"You sure you don't want Mitchell here full-time?"
Mandy whispered back:
"He has a good school. A normal life. I won't take that from him just because I want him close."
Dr. Morning-Star smiled softly.
"You're a wonderful mother."
Before Mandy could respond—
BOOM.
The mansion doors burst open.
Wind exploded into the room.
Students screamed.
Emma hovered just inside the entrance, breathing heavily, eyes glowing faintly.
Everyone froze.
"Emma?!" Dr. Morning-Star gasped.
Mr. Morning-Star stepped forward. "You shouldn't be here. You're supposed to be at the hospital."
Teachers immediately moved.
"Students — upstairs. Now."
Zero and Jude began guiding the younger kids away.
Emma's voice broke.
"No! Don't send them away! Don't push me away like everyone else!"
Aya ran forward.
"Emma!" she said, confused but relieved. "I'm happy you're here—but your grandparents—did they allow this?"
Emma shook her head violently.
"They said I can't come back!" she cried. "They said I can't see you anymore!"
Her tears fell freely now.
"They look at me like I'm broken. Like I'm dangerous."
Her voice cracked.
"Please. Don't send me away. I need you."
Dr. Morning-Star pulled her into a hug.
Aya wrapped her arms around Emma too.
"We're not sending you anywhere," Dr. Morning-Star whispered.
Then—
Sirens outside.
Headlights through the windows.
The front doors opened again.
Emma's grandparents stepped inside.
Police behind them.
Her grandmother was crying.
"Emma," her grandfather said, voice shaking, "you can't be here. These people aren't good for you."
Emma pulled away.
"No," she said firmly. "You don't understand me."
Two officers stepped forward cautiously.
One whispered to the other:
"This could turn into a mutant situation…"
The tension in the room shifted.
The fear wasn't hidden anymore.
Bruno stepped in front of Emma instantly.
Zero stood beside him.
"I don't think that's happening," Bruno said calmly. "Let's talk first."
The officers hesitated.
Then—
"Stand down."
Detective Kite entered.
Detective Don beside her.
They walked in with authority.
"This isn't a crime scene," Kite said firmly. "And no one's being taken by force."
Emma's grandparents looked confused.
"We just want what's best for her," her grandmother sobbed.
Don spoke gently.
"We know you do."
He looked at Emma.
"But Emma is a mutant. That can't be undone."
Silence filled the room.
"We spoke with higher authorities," Kite added. "And with Apollo Weston."
Mr. Morning-Star stiffened slightly.
Kite continued:
"The safest place for Emma… is here. Where she can learn control. Where she isn't treated like something that needs to be fixed."
Emma's grandfather's shoulders dropped.
Her grandmother broke down crying.
"We're scared," she whispered.
"I know," Emma said softly.
"And I'm scared too."
The officers lowered their hands.
The grandparents slowly stepped back.
"Call us," her grandfather said weakly.
Then they left.
The police followed.
The door closed.
Emma stood in the center of the room, tears streaming down her face — but this time, she was smiling.
Dr. Morning-Star held her shoulders.
"You're home."
Kite shook Mr. Morning-Star's hand.
"We'll handle the paperwork," Don said.
As they turned to leave, Kite paused.
She looked at Mr. Morning-Star carefully.
"When you see Ace," she said calmly, pulling a card from her pocket, "tell him I'm waiting."
She handed over her number.
"I need to speak with him."
There was no smile on her face.
Just focus.
She walked out.
Scene 3
Ace arive back home taking off his mask. We see roman. As he put done his mask on the shelf. As roman is about to take of his clothing. And relaxing. As he put on the news watching the news. While he took out some beers drinking. As he took out his phone. As he sees Mr morning-star texting as he read it and send a thumb up. Which the messages is about what happend with Emma. As he also sned Kite messages
As roman also got a text from the mafia gang saying the boss want to talk to you. No. And is not a trap. To show it is not a trap.is at natural ground. At the la-la-la gambling place. We are paying millions to show up. And a promise there won't be no crime by us for 3 weeks
As roman say as I though my day is over sometime pop up. Even if this is a trap which I don't beileve so. Because I have never heard the mafia dome this before. And the mafia. Have a rule there put a lie on there boss. It's like a Christian swearing to there God. And that what he did on his boss.
And pls I don't want to go. Am going not becuse it's not thr money. 3 million is b3cause there swear to boss no crim for 3 weeks. How many life would be change by thst I can't put that down. But the main reasion am going to do my favorite thing on earth and that is gambling hahaha.
As he put on his mask and leave
Scene 3
The Invitation
The window slid open without a sound.
Ace stepped inside.
The city lights behind him flickered against the walls as he pulled off his mask. For a moment, he just stood there — breathing.
Then the mask came off fully.
Roman.
He placed it carefully on the shelf, almost ritualistic. The symbol stared back at him from the darkness.
The hero was done for the night.
Or so he thought.
He loosened his gloves. Rolled his shoulder. Bruises forming beneath the fabric. Five crime scenes tonight. All mafia.
He turned on the television. The news filled the apartment.
"Masked vigilante intervenes again—"
He muted it.
Roman grabbed a beer from the fridge. Opened it. The sharp hiss echoed in the quiet room.
He dropped onto the couch.
Silence.
His phone buzzed.
Mr. Morning-Star.
Roman read the message carefully — about Emma. About the grandparents. About the decision.
He stared at it for a second.
Then sent a simple 👍.
Trust.
He didn't need to micromanage them. He trusted them with Emma. With the school. With the future.
He typed a short message to Kite as well.
Neutral. Professional.
Another buzz.
Unknown encrypted number.
Roman frowned.
He opened it.
The Boss would like to speak with you.
This is not a trap.
Neutral ground. La-La-La Gambling Hall.
We are offering 3 million for your presence.
In addition — we swear on The Boss — no mafia crime for three weeks.
Roman didn't blink.
The apartment suddenly felt colder.
He read it again.
Three weeks.
No crime.
He leaned back slowly.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
The mafia never did this.
Never swore lightly.
Swearing on the Boss wasn't just loyalty — it was religion. It was sacred. Breaking that vow meant death.
Like a Christian swearing to God.
They wouldn't lie about that.
Would they?
Roman took another drink.
This could be a trap.
It probably is.
He stared at the mask on the shelf.
Three weeks.
Three weeks without drugs. Without trafficking. Without murders. Without fear spreading through the streets.
How many lives would that save?
How many kids wouldn't lose parents?
How many parents wouldn't bury children?
He closed his eyes.
"I don't even want to go," he muttered.
He was tired.
Every muscle in his body ached.
For once, he wanted to just sit there. Finish the beer. Fall asleep like a normal man.
Roman wanted rest.
Ace didn't get that luxury.
He exhaled slowly.
"It's not about the money."
Three million meant nothing.
But three weeks?
That was priceless.
He stood up.
"And besides…" he said quietly, a faint smirk forming.
"I do love gambling."
But there was no humor in his eyes.
Only calculation.
Only risk.
Only the thrill of standing on the edge of something dangerous.
He grabbed the mask.
For a moment, he hesitated.
If this is a trap…
He could die.
And if he dies?
No Ace. No shield. No symbol.
Just a body in a suit.
He didn't think long.
That's who he is.
He put the mask on.
The man disappeared.
The symbol returned.
The window opened again.
And Ace stepped back into the night
– Scene 4
The House That Remembers
The night was unnaturally clear.
Stars shimmered above Heaven's Heart as if the sky itself refused to blink.
Light exposing darkness.
In the western district — on the infamous La-La-La Street — stood the La-La-La Holding House.
Gold lights. Velvet ropes. Music spilling into the streets.
Laughter. Champagne. Beautiful dresses. Polished shoes. Expensive watches.
And underneath it all?
Predators.
This was neutral ground.
At least tonight.
Mafia members mixed with civilians. Gambling. Drinking. Smiling.
But the smiles were thinner than usual.
Because they knew who was coming.
And then—
He appeared.
Ace.
Walking down the street in full uniform. No disguise. No hesitation.
Not hiding.
Announcing.
Conversations began to die mid-sentence as he passed.
Normal citizens stared. Some in awe. Some in fear. Some confused why a hero would walk into a den of wolves.
Lower-ranked mafia members stiffened immediately.
Shoulders tight. Hands twitching. Eyes calculating exits.
One of them swallowed too loudly.
A higher-ranked member slapped him lightly on the chest.
"Relax," he muttered under his breath. "You're making us look weak."
The lower-ranked man whispered, "It's Ace…"
"And?" the higher rank responded calmly. "There won't be a fight."
Ace walked past them without slowing down.
But he heard everything.
He saw the tension in the jawline. The sweat on the temples. The fingers hovering near hidden weapons.
Fear.
And fear always speaks louder than words.
One of the higher-ranked men called out casually,
"Right, Ace?"
Ace turned his head slightly.
"Your superior is correct."
His voice calm.
Measured.
Unbothered.
He continued walking.
Inside his mind, however, calculations were unfolding.
This isn't a trap.
Too many civilians. Too many witnesses. The Boss is here.
The Boss would never expose himself in front of normal citizens if violence was planned.
The mafia is corrupt — but they are structured.
Disciplined.
Religious about their hierarchy.
And above them all…
The Boss.
Ace's eyes shifted upward.
A small, nearly invisible drone circled high in the night sky.
Silent.
Watching.
Mr. Morning-Star's creation.
One signal — and it would override city broadcasts, hijack news channels, stream everything live.
Insurance.
If this turned into an execution attempt…
The entire city would watch it unfold.
Ace adjusted his glove slightly.
One button.
Just in case.
But still…
It doesn't feel like a trap.
Yet this place…
This building.
The La-La-La Holding House.
It had history.
Roman's history.
Years ago, before Ace was a symbol, before the city whispered his name…
This building was where a case went wrong.
Where corruption was untouchable. Where witnesses vanished. Where the law looked the other way.
Roman remembered standing outside these doors once.
Helpless.
Tonight was different.
Tonight, he walked in.
The doors opened.
Music thundered.
Roulette wheels spinning. Cards slapping against tables. Coins clinking.
And then—
Silence.
It spread like a ripple through water.
Heads turned.
Every eye landed on Ace.
Lower-ranked mafia members froze completely.
Their fear wasn't just respect.
It was survival instinct.
But higher-ranked members?
They began clapping. Cheering lightly. Forcing the atmosphere back to life.
"Keep playing!" "Enjoy yourselves!" "No problems tonight!"
The music resumed.
Laughter returned.
But it was thinner now.
A woman approached Ace.
Long brown hair. Dark, observant eyes. Not nervous.
High rank.
"The Boss has been waiting," she said smoothly. "Follow me."
Ace didn't move.
"Not yet."
She raised an eyebrow.
"I'll have my fun first."
Without waiting for permission, Ace walked toward a card table.
Sat down.
Picked up the cards.
The dealer hesitated for half a second.
Ace smiled behind the mask.
Inside his mind?
Counting.
Exit points. Security cameras. Number of armed guards. Positions of higher-ranking members. Body language patterns. Unusual movement.
He wasn't gambling for money.
He was gambling for information.
The woman watched him carefully.
He was testing the room.
And the room knew it.
Ace placed his first bet calmly.
Because this is who he truly is.
Not just a hero.
A detective.
A strategist.
A man who never walks blindly into danger.
Even when he chooses to.
Ace continued gambling.
Cards flipped.
Chips stacked.
Money piled up.
The small bag beside him slowly began to fill with winnings.
Deal after deal.
Win after win.
Some players began whispering.
Others stopped sitting at the table.
The dealer wiped sweat from his forehead.
Ace, however, looked relaxed.
Almost amused.
But inside his mind—
I'm having fun.
If this was a normal night…
This would be one of those nights people remember forever.
But it won't be.
His thoughts darkened.
His eyes slowly lifted toward the upper floors.
Not in this place.
His tone in his mind turned cold.
This place…
This is where my life changed forever.
For better… or worse.
Ace slowly stood up.
He grabbed the bag of money.
The female mafia member who had been watching him all night crossed her arms.
"Finished?" she asked with slight irritation.
Ace adjusted his coat.
"Yeah."
He looked toward the upper floors.
"It's about time I meet your boss."
She rolled her eyes dramatically.
"Finally."
She turned and began walking.
"Took you long enough."
Ace followed behind her.
But inside his mind, he was counting.
Mapping.
Calculating.
The building hasn't changed.
Three exits.
Two fire escapes.
Three hundred twenty-three gang members inside.
Seventy-two official building guards — separate from the mafia.
The mafia has over fifteen thousand members in this city…
But only three hundred twenty-three are here tonight.
Which means…
His eyes sharpened.
They are not expecting a fight.
They walked up the stairs.
Then entered a private elevator.
The elevator climbed slowly.
Higher.
Higher.
Until the very top floor.
The doors opened.
A long hallway waited.
Silent.
The woman stopped in front of a massive door.
She tilted her head slightly toward it.
Go.
Ace opened the door.
The Boss
The room was enormous.
Golden trophies.
Massive paintings.
Antique furniture worth millions.
And at the center of the room—
A giant gambling table.
At the head of the table sat a man.
Two powerful bodyguards stood beside him.
Another several stood behind him in silence.
Watching.
Waiting.
The man looked up.
Smiling.
Ace walked forward and sat across from him.
Then spoke casually.
"Damian."
He leaned back slightly.
"Long time no see."
He tilted his head.
"Or should I say…"
A pause.
"…Boss."
Damian
For the first time we truly see him.
Damian.
Dark brown hair slicked back perfectly.
Short on the sides.
Sharp textured top.
A carefully maintained beard framing his jaw.
His emerald green eyes were piercing.
Dangerously intelligent.
His black suit looked like it cost more than most people's homes.
Confidence radiated from him.
Not loud confidence.
Controlled confidence.
The confidence of someone who knows he already won the room.
Damian laughed.
"I knew you'd come."
He leaned back in his chair.
"I told them."
He gestured toward the men around him.
"They all said the great Ace wouldn't show up."
He smiled wider.
"But I knew better."
He leaned forward.
"That agreement…"
He tapped the table.
"Two weeks. No crime."
Ace interrupted immediately.
"Three."
The room went quiet.
Damian blinked.
"Sorry?"
Ace stared at him calmly.
"You promised three weeks."
His voice remained calm.
"But maybe the boss of the mafia plans on breaking his word."
The bodyguards shifted slightly.
Damian stared at him.
Then burst out laughing.
"Haha!"
He leaned back.
"I was just testing you."
His eyes sharpened.
"Seeing if you were still paying attention."
Ace shrugged slightly.
"You invited me into a building full of mafia members."
"Of course I'm paying attention."
Ace leaned forward slightly.
"Why here?"
His eyes scanned the room.
"Why this building?"
Damian smiled slowly.
"This place means a lot to me."
He leaned back.
"My first mission."
"I was fifteen."
His smile widened.
"And it was a success."
The Trigger
Ace's hand tightened on the chair.
Hard.
The wood creaked.
Inside his mind—
A success?
His blood began boiling.
You took her from me.
You monster.
You call that success?
His jaw tightened.
He bit his lip slightly.
Damian noticed.
Of course he did.
His eyes narrowed with curiosity.
"Why so tense, Ace?"
He tilted his head.
"The great Ace… upset?"
Ace inhaled slowly.
Careful.
You almost slipped.
He straightened.
"It pisses me off."
He looked Damian in the eyes.
"Your version of success."
"Killing people."
He leaned back.
"I read the reports."
"That shootout years ago in this building."
"Your gang came for payment."
"Several civilians died."
He tapped the table.
"I research my enemies."
Damian nodded slowly.
"Of course you do."
He smiled faintly.
"You probably know every crime I committed when I was younger."
He stood up and walked to a cabinet.
"But I learned something as I got older."
He grabbed a bottle.
A rare Russian vodka.
Dragon Breath.
"It's better to let people think."
He poured a glass.
"Than to let them know."
He raised the glass.
"Talk less."
A sip.
"Smile more."
Another sip.
"Show less."
He stared directly at Ace.
"Be more."
Ace nodded slowly.
"That works for men like you."
He leaned forward slightly.
"But symbols don't have that luxury."
His voice sharpened.
"People need to know what we stand for."
Damian chuckled.
"You and I are more alike than you think."
He placed the bottle down.
"And that scares you."
The Russian Clue
Damian poured another glass and offered it.
Ace shook his head.
"Not today."
He glanced around the room.
"I'm not drinking alcohol in a building full of criminals."
Damian shrugged.
"Fair."
He drank instead.
Ace stared at the bottle.
Then smiled faintly.
"That drink is rare."
Damian paused.
"Russian import."
Ace leaned back.
"But here's the interesting part."
His eyes sharpened.
"Russia currently can't export anything."
The room grew quiet.
"Global sanctions."
"Because of Scientist Vlad."
"His super-soldier program."
"Rumors of war."
Ace pointed slightly at the bottle.
"And that bottle?"
"Three weeks old."
He glanced toward the fridge.
"And you have five more."
Ace leaned forward.
"So tell me, Damian…"
His voice lowered.
"What were you doing in Russia?"
Damian stared at him.
Then slowly laughed.
"You really haven't changed."
He shook his head.
"Still terrifyingly sharp."
He poured another drink.
"Yes."
"I visited Russia."
"Business."
He looked at Ace.
"You already solved the puzzle."
"Why else would I be there?"
Ace said calmly.
"To meet Vlad."
He paused.
"But why does the mafia need super soldiers?"
Damian smiled.
"A king never reveals his full hand."
"But maybe one day…"
The Offer
They began playing cards.
The dealer nervously handed them both cards.
Damian placed a diamond on the table.
"One million."
Then another.
"Three million for showing up."
Ace placed his cards down.
"I visited the prison recently."
He smiled slightly.
"I saw your former boss."
Damian's expression changed instantly.
Pure hatred.
"Don't call him that."
His voice was cold.
"He's not my boss."
"He's a dead man who should've died years ago."
Then his expression softened.
"But you helped me."
He smiled again.
"You know why we hate him."
Ace nodded.
"He needed to fall."
"And I couldn't do it alone."
Damian smiled wider.
"I planned that for years."
"My masterpiece."
Ace looked at him.
"So why am I here?"
Damian slowly lifted a card.
Held it in front of his face.
"I want you…"
He turned it around.
Ace of Spades.
"…to be my Ace in the hole."
He laughed.
"I want you beside me."
"At the top of the world."
"I'll give you anything."
"Money."
"Power."
"Freedom."
He leaned forward.
"Join me."
"Be my Ace."
Ideology Clash
Ace looked at him quietly.
"What's the plan?"
"What do you need from me?"
Damian smiled.
"You're my equal."
"My rival."
"The only man capable of stopping me."
He leaned forward.
"I respect you."
Ace thought silently.
He's right.
Then he spoke.
"I can't stand beside someone who hurts innocent people."
Damian laughed bitterly.
"Innocent?"
"The people you protect hurt our kind every day."
"We can't attend the same schools."
"Live in the same neighborhoods."
"They preach unity."
"Lies."
"We are mutants."
"And they will never accept us."
Ace replied calmly.
"Violence won't change that."
"If we do it your way…"
"They'll only fear us more."
Damian stood.
"I respect what you're trying to do."
"But it isn't working."
He extended his hand.
"Join me."
The Refusal
Ace stood.
The tension in the room became heavy.
Electric.
Ace stared directly into Damian's emerald eyes.
"I understand you."
"You want what's best for our people."
"But our paths are different."
He picked up the diamonds.
Then turned away.
Damian called out behind him.
"What about Emma?"
Ace stopped.
"Look what they did to her."
"I tried to help her."
Ace didn't turn back.
"Goodbye, Damian."
The Memory
Ace exited the building.
Walking into the night.
Then—
A flash.
A woman singing.
Beautiful.
Long black hair.
Elegant dress.
The La-La-La stage.
Gunshots.
Chaos.
She fell.
A child cried.
Young Roman.
She smiled at him.
Then everything faded.
Ace stopped walking.
He grabbed his neck.
"Mom…"
His voice was quiet.
"I'll never forget."
He looked back at the building.
"And I'll never work for your killers."
His eyes hardened.
"Damian… you were there."
The Ending
Ace entered a bank.
Placed two diamonds on the counter.
"Three million."
"Donate it to charity."
Then he lifted the bag of gambling money.
"This too."
"For another charity."
Minutes later—
Ace flew into the night sky.
Returning to his hotel.
End of Chapter 10.