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Chapter 61 - Chapter 61: Confronting Ghosts

Hector stood before a large gathering of thirty people within the dimly lit warehouse that served as his gang's base. As the youngest leader of the Golden Vipers in the gang's history, he believed it was his duty to ensure their survival, even amid the city's many superheroes.

While other gangs and criminal organizations might have seen these heroes as threats, Hector viewed them as challenges—obstacles to be overcome. Objects for him to confront and take down to cement himself as a legend.

For countless nights, Hector devoted himself to meticulously mapping the intricate streets of New York, immersing himself in the rhythms and routines of the city's vigilant guardians to ensure his crew would go uncaptured and unnoticed.

Each colorful figure—like the acrobatic Spider-Man swinging between skyscrapers, the shadowy Daredevil navigating Hell's Kitchen, the fierce Iron Fist harnessing mystical powers, and the agile White Tiger leaping from rooftop to rooftop—constantly reminded him of the unwavering dedication these heroes displayed in their eternal battle against criminals like himself.

Hector carefully constructed plans for the Golden Vipers' bold yet discreet operations, intending to secure an even stronger grip on the city's darker underbelly.

With steady confidence, he gathered his crew in their warehouse hideout, the scent of aged wood and dust hanging in the air. He emphasized the importance of cleverness over brute force, urging his gang to rely on their wits to navigate the intricate web of heroes' watchful eyes.

"No matter how much this city has transformed under the influence of those costumed freaks, the streets still belong to us," Hector declared, his voice steady and authoritative. He had recently ascended to the top of the gang after cleverly orchestrating the removal of their former leader, a bold move that had earned him both fear and respect. "They might have their powers and slick tricks, but we know these streets like the back of our hands. Move swiftly and with purpose," he commanded, his presence radiating a sense of dark resolve. "These streets are ours. No one else's. It's time we reclaim what's rightfully ours."

As his fellow gang members nodded in vigorous agreement, their eyes darting nervously to the floor, Hector felt a renewed sense of purpose surge through him. The weight of their unspoken fear hung in the air, stifling dissent and amplifying his influence.

He envisioned the Golden Vipers not merely enduring their current struggles but evolving into an indomitable force, one that would wield power and command respect throughout the city. With each passing moment, Hector could almost taste the victory that lay ahead—territories to conquer, rivals to outsmart, and a legacy to forge.

The streets would soon reverberate with the powerful name of the Golden Vipers, a symbol of strength and unwavering dominance under his command that few would dare to confront.

Hours after the meeting, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an amber glow over the city, Hector stood on the rooftop of their fortress-like base. The sprawling metropolis unfolded before him, a vivid tapestry woven from the chaos of bustling streets, flickering neon lights, and the distant hum of life that thrummed like a heartbeat.

Among those lights were the so-called heroes of New York. Each hero or vigilante was a new obstacle or challenge for Hector to face or to plan around.

But no matter what new ingenious plans Hector could create or imagine, they would all come up short when faced against Atomic.

Atomic towered above all the other heroes in the city. He was a beacon of hope and immense power, and just his presence reassured everyone nearby that everything would be alright. There was little that he or anyone else could do to even consider taking down the red-and-white hero.

Whenever the hero flew over the sky, citizens would gaze up at him in awe, their expressions a mix of adoration and reverence.

But as Hector watched the idolization from the masses directed toward these caped figures, a seething resolve ignited within him, burning brighter than the lights illuminating the streets below.

With ruthless conviction and dreams of grandeur churning within him, Hector envisioned a future where the legacy of his gang, The Golden Vipers, would be etched into the very foundations of the city—a legacy powerful enough to withstand the test of time and resonate deeply within the hearts of its inhabitants.

No longer would the Golden Vipers be overshadowed by the flashy allure of heroes clad in spandex and capes, who soared through the skies and basked in public admiration.

Under Hector's relentless leadership, the Golden Vipers were poised to claim their rightful place in the city's history, vowing to become the most feared and formidable gang the urban landscape had ever known.

In a world dominated by superhuman abilities and extraordinary feats, the Vipers stood ready to assert their presence with boldness and ruthlessness. They would remind every citizen and vigilante alike that this city was theirs—a territory molded by their struggles and claims, not a playground for costumed do-gooders.

"Hector... Jonas, Joel, and Samuel were all arrested," said Edgar, Hector's second-in-command, as he slipped his phone into his pocket. "Looks like one of the heroes ran into them last night."

"Those idiots... Damn them, they were useless anyway," Hector muttered as he turned away from the city to look at his second in command. "Wait... wasn't there a new recruit with them? What happened to him?"

"I think the kid's name was Collin or some shit, but I heard he somehow got away," Edgar replied, pulling a cigarette from his jacket pocket. "The kid was probably a rat. I knew there was something about him I didn't like."

"Is that so? Send some of our guys to find him. I'm not done with him yet," Hector said, unsheathing his USMC fighting knife. With quick and expert precision, he flipped the knife in his hand before sliding it back into its sheath at his thigh. "What's the latest on the 121st Street Gang? Are they still trying to sell their product on our streets?"

"No, I think they got the message after we sent their last dealer's body back to them in a bag. I doubt they or anyone else will pull that stunt again," Edgar said, inhaling his cigarette.

"Good, where are we with the-"

"Hey, Hector?" A young teenager named Bryan, one of the newest recruits to the gang, hesitantly stepped out onto the rooftop. His hands fidgeted in his pockets as he glanced around nervously. "I, uh, there's something... well, it's kind of important."

Hector leaned against the parapet, arms crossed, his brow furrowing with impatience. "Spit it out, Bryan. We don't have all day."

"Right, sorry," Bryan stammered, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. "There's, uh, someone… at the door," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as if afraid someone might overhear. The sheer absurdity of the situation weighed on him; their secret hideout was supposed to be secret. The fact that someone had appeared randomly while asking for the Golden Vipers' leader to chat was perplexing. "He claims to be an old friend of yours."

Hector's eyes narrowed, scanning the horizon for any signs of trouble. The rickety rooftop, with its views of the city's sprawling skyline, suddenly felt a lot less secure. "An old friend? Really? Are you sure they're not just trying to lure me out? Did they give you a name or something?"

Bryan shot a glance back toward the door, anxiety creeping into his voice. "I-I don't know, boss. But, yeah. He said his name was... Wyatt."

Hector straightened, the corners of his mouth tightening as annoyance gave way to sheer disbelief.

It was a transformation that caught Edgar off guard, as he had always known Hector to be the epitome of coolness, calmness, and collectedness despite his young age. Hector possessed an unwavering composure that seemed unshakeable despite his young age of 21.

Almost nothing could disrupt Hector's serene composure, making the sudden shift in his demeanor all the more startling for Edgar. He stood frozen, a mix of disbelief and concern washing over him, as he realized that something had truly unsettled his usually unflappable leader.

"...bring him to my office," Hector muttered cautiously, his voice low and tense, as he stepped purposefully into the dimly lit warehouse, the shadows clinging to him like a shroud.

Edgar and Bryan exchanged glances, their eyes mirroring each other's confusion and unease. Without a word, Bryan nodded and moved to comply. Edgar, driven by curiosity, followed closely behind Hector.

••o••o••o••

"Is the blindfold really necessary?"

"...shut up. Keep walking."

Wyatt frowned as Bryan forcefully shoved him forward, the rough grip on his shoulder a stark reminder of the tension in the air.

Despite the blindfold shrouding his eyes, Wyatt's senses remained acutely aware of his surroundings thanks to his powers.

The faint scent of mildew permeated the old warehouse, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere created by the gathered gang members. He made a careful effort to stagger and appear disoriented, playing into the role of a blind and vulnerable individual.

As he was steered deeper through the old abandoned warehouse, now repurposed as a stronghold for the Golden Vipers, Wyatt discreetly scanned his surroundings with cautious precision.

Young gang members stood across the graffiti-laden walls, and the faint sound of whispered conversations reached his ears, underscoring the suspicion and disdain radiating from the Vipers who lined the space. Wyatt noted their restless postures, the way some shifted their weight from one foot to the other while others crossed their arms defiantly, their eyes narrowing with skepticism as they gripped their deadly weapons.

"All right, take it off," Bryan said.

Samson, another newly integrated member, nodded and roughly tore off the yellow bandana from Waytt's face. "Go on. We don't have all day!" Bryan said as he and Samson made to leave. "One wrong move and you're dead."

Wyatt watched both young men leave the dirty hall with a disappointed gaze. Turning to the graffiti-covered door, Wyatt placed a hand on the dirty doorknob and paused. After taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside the dimly lit and sparsely furnished room.

"…Hector," Wyatt muttered as his eyes landed on his old friend, now turned into a gang leader. Standing off to Wyatt's left in a corner, stood Edgar. A Glock 17 in his hands. Wyatt didn't pay him much mind.

"...Wyatt? It really is you," Hector muttered in disbelief, the grip on his pistol slackening. "But... I saw you get stabbed! They threw your body into the river! How are you alive?!"

"I... someone saw me floating down the Hudson and saved me. I was lucky. But that doesn't matter right now... Hector, you did it. You became the leader. I… can't believe it," Wyatt said, stepping forward.

"What do you mean you were lucky! Dude, the fact that you're standing right now is a miracle. Christian must have stabbed you more than fifteen times!" Hector said as he walked around his small desk to grab Wyatt by the shoulders. "Man, look at you! You're so tall now! And the muscles, bro, you really filled out!"

Hector and Wyatt's past friendship as young orphans navigating the harsh realities of street life in New York was still vivid in both young men's minds. Back then, they relied on each other to survive, sharing both the burdens and the rare moments of joy that came their way.

Their days were filled with scavenging for food, dodging trouble, and dreaming of a brighter future beyond their difficult circumstances. Together, they found comfort and happiness in their shared struggles.

Each day brought both adventure and hardship as they faced the challenges of life on the streets. They scavenged for food, cherished small moments of joy, and built a brotherhood that made the world seem a little less harsh.

Those carefree days, filled with laughter and lightness, were among the most peaceful Hector had ever experienced. However, that tranquility was violently shattered when he witnessed Wyatt's brutal death—a crushing loss that turned his life upside down.

To Wyatt, Hector had been one of his few good friends before his destiny abruptly changed.

To Hector, Wyatt had always been like a distant younger brother. A brother who was killed before his eyes.

In the aftermath, Hector clawed his way up to become the leader of the Golden Vipers, the very gang that he and Wyatt looked forward to joining to change their lives. With the weight of his friend's death now heavy on his shoulders, Hector became determined to honor Wyatt's memory by becoming the Golden Vipers' greatest leader.

"Yeah, well, I've been keeping busy," Wyatt said, a rush of memories about his and Hector's once-ignored past flooding his mind. "But that's not why I'm here. Hector... this gang, you—"

"Dude, don't worry about it!" Hector grinned, giving Wyatt a pat on the back. "You're in! Heck, I'll make you a lieutenant!"

"Hector, what are you—" Edgar stepped forward but fell silent when Hector turned a cold gaze toward him, causing Edgar to back down. "Right... sorry."

"Man, you won't believe all the changes I've made as the boss. We've expanded our reach outside of Chelsea, and our operations have been running smoothly, despite those costumed wackos flying around," Hector said, slipping back into the carefree attitude he shared with Wyatt two years ago. "Oh! I have to show you—"

"Hector," Wyatt interrupted, removing Hector's arm from his back and looking at his old friend with a serious expression. "Why are you still allowing the Golden Vipers to kill innocent people as part of an initiation? You're the boss now, right? You could put an end to that! Put an end to all the violence! That initiation almost got me killed, and you just… allow it to keep going. Why?"

Hector blinked and shifted away from Wyatt slightly. His once carefree attitude is now nowhere to be seen. "It's... not that simple, Wyatt. That initiation has been a tradition for the gang for the last fifteen years. If I removed it, the Golden Vipers would lose respect on the streets... I can't have that."

"Hector… listen to yourself!" Wyatt said in frustration. The happy memories he once shared with Hector were slowly darkening. Twisting. "This isn't you! You're letting them kill innocent people for no good reason! It's pointless murder! And for what? Respect from other gangs? That's ridiculous!"

"Wyatt... we may be old friends, but don't fucking disrespect me. I'm the leader of one of New York's greatest gangs," Hector muttered coldly, stepping right up to Wyatt's face. "So, watch your mouth."

"...please, Hector. Stop this-"

Before Wyatt could respond, Hector landed a vicious punch to his stomach, dropping Wyatt to his knees in pain.

Wyatt clutched his stomach and looked up to see Hector.

But this was not the Hector he once knew. This was a new Hector, one who had moved beyond the simpler days of their past adventures on the streets and embraced the cold, ruthless persona of a gang boss.

Was this what I was afraid of? Why I've been putting off looking for Hector? Was I afraid to find out that the only friend I had before Serena turned out to be just like the rest of the criminals I've been stopping? Wyatt thought as the pain of the realization far outweighed the pain he felt at the punch he received.

"In memory of our past friendship, I'll let you leave here alive. But don't come back, Wyatt... I think I finally get it now. Why he did it. You're still as weak willed as the day Christian stabbed you," Hector said, turning to Edgar. "Get him out of here."

Edgar nodded and began to drag Wyatt out of the room, but Hector stopped him.

"Tell anyone about this location... and you're dead," Hector said coldly, staring directly into Wyatt's sorrowful eyes as Edgar closed the door behind them.

Wordlessly, Edgar led Wyatt out of the warehouse, the sneers and chuckles of the other Golden Vipers members filled the air around him.

With a forceful shove, Wyatt was pushed out of the warehouse, the heavy door slamming shut behind him with a deafening metallic clang that echoed in the stillness of the night.

Standing in the desolate, dimly lit streets, Wyatt felt the weight of disappointment and sadness pressing down on him.

The air was thick with the scent of damp concrete and old trash. Wyatt cast a lingering glance back at the warehouse, its silhouette looming against the moonlit sky, before turning away and disappearing into the darkness.

Half an hour later, Atomic broke through the warehouse, his presence commanding immediate attention.

With precision and skill, he moved through the warehouse, capturing each member of the Golden Vipers one by one.

Each gang member was swiftly overpowered and disarmed, taken off guard by the sheer strength and speed of the hero. The air crackled with tension as they struggled against the relentless assault, but one by one, they fell to the ground, their weapons clattering away from reach.

As the last of the criminals was being handcuffed, a convoy of police vehicles arrived, filling the night with flashing lights and blaring sirens.

Officers swiftly emerged, forming a disciplined perimeter around the scene with a sense of purpose and urgency. They secured every escape route, leaving no chance for any remaining gang members to flee. Once the perimeter was established, the officers began to gather and escort each gang member away from the scene.

As he floated high in the air, Atomic observed an enraged Hector being placed into the back of a police car. Hector's hate-filled gaze was directed up at him as the cruiser drove off to the precinct.

"Goodbye, my old friend..." Atomic muttered and flew off into the night.

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