A rundown close, a well known close, the rundown close; a close known for one thing and one thing only: its job of harboring criminals, delinquents and every other immoral group of people you could think of.
To everyone else on the island of Moamao it's a stubborn stain that has refused to be removed. How the heroes, police and vigilante let the close co about is a question that residents of Moamao have always asked their protectors.
A stain to the people of the small island, but to Lumian it was his ho, it was not like he had much of a choice when it ca to place of residence, he was a criminal. It was his abode and everyone who had even an idea about Lumian knew that.
It was precisely for that reason that a group of shady individuals blocked Lumian's path when they saw him approaching his makeshift ho. It was a small abandoned warehouse used in the past by a small company that tried to expand into the close once.
"What's a big looking man like you looking for in this small part of town" one is the shady guy said
One was a hulking figure with broad shoulders, wearing a worn leather jacket that creaked as he moved . His face is partially hidden beneath a tattered hoodie, his eyes cold and calculating.
The second one the trio was lanky and nervous, fidgets constantly, flicking a cigarette to the ground. His clothes are mismatched, a baggy sweatshirt and torn jeans, and his hands twitch like he's ready to run at any mont.
The third, smaller but more nacing, has a sharp face and a scar cutting across his cheek. He walked with a limp, his eyes scanned the area with a sly grin, his hands deep in his coat pockets, hiding sothing more dangerous than his smile.
"You're blocking my path, Stone. Move" Lumian ordered as he walked through the group.
Of course Lumian knew the trio, it was his neighborhood afterall. It would be stupid for him to gather knowledge on heroes and forget the people around him.
The trio like Lumian were powerless, so they stuck to petty cris that were within their power. The leader of their gang was stone, but the most dangerous of them was the lanky man; dynamite. They called him that because he was unstable and could flare up at any point in ti, the only one who could control him was Stone.
The hulk of the group; Boulder was massive compared to the average human, Lumian who had just undergone an unnatural growth spurt looked average beside him. He tried to stop Lumian with his massive fra, but Lumian simply walked through him, lightly bumping his shoulders against Boulder's.
"What the fu-" Boulder winced in pain as Lumian bumped against him
He felt like the entire weight of a mountain had clashed with his shoulder, he quickly moved out of the way as quickly as possible. If he hadn't, he would have at the very least dislocated his shoulder.
Stone noticed this, 'Who the hell is this?! To make stone flinch, a newcor? And he knows my na too.' he mused
"Wait!" Stone commanded, "Who are you?" He asked
But Lumian didn't answer, instead he kept on walking. Stone opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could form a word, dynamite had already charged towards Lumian. His well polished Swiss knife glead at the edge of his extended arm.
"He knows your na, he is probably a cop or vigilante in disguise. Let's kill him!" Dynamite scread as he charged
Lumian could see his movents more clearly than before, almost in slow motion. But for so reason, he didn't find it a threat to his life.
As the blade t Lumian skin, a grin spread across dynamite's face. Suddenly everywhere went quiet,
"Are you done?" Lumian asked
All the blood in dynamite's face drained and he paled as he looked down at his knife only to see his knife shatter in half, leaving only the hilt and a broken blade.
"It-it, it broke? It broke?!!" Stone was exclaid
Lumian placed a hand on dynamite's neck and the delinquent imdiately felt an imnse pressure co over him. His "dynamite" deanor imdiately faded away and he began to sweat profusely.
Lumian raised his hand preparing to strike him, dynamite instinctively tried to call for help but as he tried to scream, he could it find his voice. He felt like he was trying to speak whilst drowning, he searched for his comrades, but what he saw was their backs as they fled the area.
'Damn it'
His eyes traced back to Lumian's descending hand, and at that mont he knew it would be a miracle if he survived whatever Lumian was about to do to him.
"Fuck.." He managed to squeeze out his last words
Lumian's palm connected perfectly with his face with a thunderous sound. A resounding slap was what it was.
Death!
With an audible crack, Dynamite's neck twisted backwards under the force of Lumian's slap. The light in his eyes had completely vanished.
Lumian let go of his lifeless body, "Nuisance" he scoffed as he walked towards his house.
From a safe distance, stone and Boulder watched Lumian walk away,
"He-he killed dynamite" Boulder said, still in shock about what happened
"With a slap, Just who is this person?" Stone added
Boulder squeezed his face, his expression filled with resolve and determination, "We must take revenge for dynamite, he was like a brother to us"
Stone looked at Boulder out of the corner of his eyes, "Revenge? Are you not able to comprehend what just happened? Dynamite died to a fucking slap!"
"But–"
"But nothing, we pressed up on the wrong guy and paid for it, plus it was dynamite's fault for rushing at him senselessly"
Boulder's anger was now more visible, "You're blaming dynamite for this?! Fuck you and fuck that bastard. I'll deal with him myself, since you're too much of a coward to do anything"
Stone shrugged, "Go ahead, I won't stop you"
Boulder left their hiding spot and began approaching Lumian. When he got closer, Lumian slowly looked back and focused his gaze on him as if inviting him to co.
Boulder felt the intensity of Lumian's gaze and he imdiately turned around,
"Solid revenge, John Wack would be proud," Stone mocked
"Shut up, let's leave. That bastard isn't human," Boulder said, trying to hide his fear and embarrassnt.
Stone scoffed as they walked, "I don't know why but that man, he feels familiar,"
Lumian entered the passcode on the lock to his makeshift ho. The small warehouse was an unassuming building from the outside, nestled between rows of dilapidated buildings. Inside, however, it was ticulously clean and organized, the kind of space that suggested an obsessive control. The air slled faintly of disinfectant, and the concrete floor was spotless.
At the far end, a bank of monitors lined the wall, displaying live feeds from various security caras scattered across the city. Each screen flickered with scenes of busy streets, alleyways, and high-rise rooftops, all angles carefully selected. Below the monitors, a desk was neatly arranged with a laptop and a few scattered papers, but nothing personal—no trinkets or keepsakes to reveal the identity of the one who operated from here.
On the opposite wall was a large detailed map of Moamao,. Every street, landmark, and obscure corner was marked. Red pins dotted the map, marking areas of interest, while a series of photos surrounded it. Each picture depicted a Hero, so in the midst of action, others captured in quieter monts. They were taken from afar, all impersonal, clinical.
Beside each image were handwritten notes—brief and cryptic. One ntioned weaknesses, another listed known associates, while so bore simple, chilling warnings: "Watch closely," "Vulnerable at night," "Unexpected strength."
The center of the room was relatively bare, save for a small tal table with a single chair beside it. On the table rested a sleek handgun, its surface as polished as the rest of the room, and a roll of duct tape. Everything was in place, waiting, ready for when it was needed.
Lumian smiled when he saw that everything was just how he left it, he took a seat and pulled open a drawer from the desk. He emptied the contents of the drawer on the table and then pried open what was supposed to be the bottom of the drawer.
Inside this secret compartnt was a thick book, with lots of bookmarks. He opened a page that had taped on photos of Voltstrike and other people, in so of the photos Voltstrike was without his mask.
"Before turning this world upside down, I need to first get to a position where I can see things from a wider perspective," Lumian said as he pulled off two photos, one was a picture of Voltstrike
"You will be my key to that position, Michael . And you, will be my key to Michael ," He added, a mischievous smile ford on his face as he brushed his fingers over the other photo, a picture of Voltstrike's newly wedded wife; Angela.
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