City Hall was a hive of motion. Phones rang without pause, aides darted through hallways with printouts, and the low roar of overlapping voices bled through the heavy oak doors of the mayor's office. Outside, sirens wailed in every direction, the city choking on its own panic.
Mayor Johnathan Reeves stood at the center of the storm, jacket unbuttoned, tie pulled loose. His desk was buried in scattered reports — each one worse than the last.
"Give me the short version," he said as his security chief, Captain Rhodes, stepped in with two more folders tucked under his arm.
"Blackstone's on lockdown," Rhodes began. "Federal response teams are sweeping the perimeter, but Hales is gone. No signs of forced entry. Whoever did this knew the exact security schedule."
Reeves leaned on the desk. "And our eyewitnesses?"
The captain hesitated, glancing toward the open door before shutting it. "Sir… we pulled surveillance from the east gate. You need to see this yourself."
He set a tablet on the desk and tapped the screen. The grainy feed showed a nighttime exterior of the prison's east wall. Guards moved along the catwalk — and then a dark shape dropped into frame. A humanoid figure in an all-black armored suit.
The figure moved with inhuman precision, disarming two guards in seconds before the camera fuzzed with static. When the feed cleared, the guards were on the ground, unmoving, and the armored figure was leading a third man into the shadows. Even through the distortion, Reeves recognized him.
"Victor Hales," the mayor muttered.
Rhodes nodded grimly. "We ran the footage through facial confirmation twice. No mistake."
Reeves straightened, rubbing at his jaw. "That suit… it's the same one that's been hitting criminals across the city. The one leaving bodies."
"Yes, sir. Which means we're not just dealing with a prison break. Whoever — or whatever — that is… it's working with Hales."
Reeves' mind was already racing. If the rumors about the black suit's brutality were true, pairing it with Victor Hales was a nightmare waiting to happen.
"Get me the governor," he said at last. "And double security at every public appearance. If they're making moves, we need to be three steps ahead — not cleaning up after them."
"Yes, sir," Rhodes said, turning for the door.
The mayor's eyes stayed fixed on the paused image of the black armored figure on the tablet screen. For a year, Skybolt'sabsence had left a void. Something else had filled it. Something worse.
Mayor, I have Governor Layne's office on the line — they say he's… unavailable for the foreseeable future. Security lockdown at the capitol."
Reeves' jaw tightened. "Unavailable in a crisis like this? Fine. If he won't take my calls, I'll take this to him in person."
Minutes later, Reeves strode through the dim concrete parking garage beneath City Hall, the sound of his footsteps echoing between the pillars. His security detail followed at a distance, giving him space while he rehearsed what he'd say to the governor.
That's when the shadow moved.
A faint hum, like a low electric current, rippled through the air before a dark figure dropped silently from above, landing between Reeves and his car. The metallic gleam of the Skybolt suit caught the overhead lights for an instant before the black visor tilted toward him.
Reeves froze. "Skybolt…"
The helmeted figure's voice came out distorted, modulated into a deep, mechanical register.
"We need to talk. Now."
The mayor glanced toward his security, but Skybolt didn't give them a chance to intervene.
"I fought the black suit," the modulated voice continued. "It's not human. There's no one inside it."
Reeves' brow furrowed. "Not inside? Then how—"
"I ripped off the faceplate," Skybolt cut in. "No pilot. No cockpit. Just hardware. Whoever's behind it is controlling it remotely."
The mayor took a step closer, his voice low. "Then someone's pulling the strings. And if it broke Hales out… that someone worked for him."
Skybolt didn't answer immediately, the dark visor reflecting Reeves' tense expression.
"I don't care how," Reeves said firmly. "Find out who it is. Because if that thing's loose in my city with Hales… we're already behind."
Skybolt turned slightly toward the shadows. "I'm working on it."
And then he was gone, lifting silently into the night, leaving Reeves in the garage with the low thrum of thrusters fading into the dark.
Noah didn't remember the flight back. One moment he was lifting off from the City Hall garage, the mayor's warning still ringing in his ears, and the next, he was cutting through the night sky toward the house, heart hammering harder with each passing second.
Victor Hales was free. That thought alone was enough to turn the edges of his vision sharp and narrow. If Victor wanted revenge — and Noah knew he did — it wouldn't be long before he came for the people closest to him.
Imani.
The two-story home came into view below, the modest front porch framed by neatly trimmed hedges. Noah cut his thrusters before landing lightly in the backyard, scanning the surrounding area for anything out of place. Nothing obvious. Still, he moved quickly, slipping inside through the back door and shutting it behind him.
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
"No… Imani?" His voice carried through the empty living room. No answer.
He checked the kitchen. Empty. The bedroom. Empty. The tightening in his chest worsened. He pulled out his phone, ready to call her, when the front door opened.
Imani stepped in, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. She froze for a second at the sight of him standing there, keyed up.
"Hey. You're home early."
"Where were you?" His tone was sharper than he meant, but the adrenaline hadn't worn off yet.
"I was… at Maya's place," she said without missing a beat. "We were catching up."
Noah studied her for a moment, trying to read what wasn't being said, but before he could press, a hard knock rattled the front door.
Both of them turned toward it.
Without thinking, Noah tapped a command into the gauntlet at his wrist. The Skybolt suit, which had been folded in its storage cradle upstairs, hummed to life and descended silently through the concealed hatch into the basement. The last thing he needed was a visitor catching sight of it.
He opened the door to find Detective Carla Ramirez standing on the porch, her brown coat buttoned tight against the evening chill. Beside her stood her partner, Detective Joshua Cross — clean-shaven, neatly dressed in a gray suit, still with that unjaded gleam in his eyes despite months on the job.
"Mr. Stroud. Ms. Lee." Ramirez's gaze swept over both of them. "We're here because of what happened today."
Noah kept his face unreadable. "You mean Hales."
"Exactly," she said. "Given your history with him, the department is recommending protective detail until he's caught. It's not optional for most, but… I told them you'd at least hear me out before I file anything formal."
Cross added, "Two officers, round the clock. We'll keep our distance, but we'll be close enough to respond if anything happens."
Noah glanced at Imani. She shook her head almost imperceptibly.
"Detective, we appreciate it," Noah said carefully, "but we'll be fine. We're not looking for a police presence around here."
Ramirez frowned. "That's exactly what worries me. This man isn't going to play by any rules. You both need to take this seriously."
"We are," Noah replied. "We just have our own way of handling it."
The detective held his gaze for a long moment before finally nodding. "Alright. But if you change your mind, call me directly. Don't wait until it's too late."
She handed him a card, then turned and left with Cross, their footsteps fading down the walkway.
When the door closed, Noah looked back at Imani. "Maya's, huh?"
Imani's lips pressed together, but she didn't answer.