Chapter 37: The Name Beneath the Shadow
The rain hadn't stopped since Liberty City bled.
The neon glow of the shattered skyline flickered faintly against the fog, painting every drop of water crimson as it fell from the broken towers. The city was quiet now—not with peace, but with the kind of silence that came after violence, when fear itself took a breath.
Deep in the underdistricts, beneath the remains of the old metro tunnels, he stood—motionless.
The dark coat hung from his shoulders, soaked and heavy, the hood shadowing his face as streaks of lightning flashed above. The wind carried the smell of oil, iron, and smoke… the lingering aftermath of his latest purge.
H.I.M.
Once a man.
Now a shadow that bled vengeance.
But footsteps echoed behind him—soft, deliberate, unafraid.
> "So this is where you've been hiding."
He turned slowly, eyes glowing faintly red beneath the hood. The voice was calm, cutting through the air like steel. It was Gina—her dark trench coat fluttering behind her, the badge of the Liberty Bureau clipped to her belt, half covered by her holster.
She stopped about ten feet away, her hand nowhere near her gun.
> "You've been hunting ghosts," she said quietly. "But the ghost you became… isn't the man you once were."
H.I.M said nothing. The darkness around him rippled faintly, a low hum escaping from his aura as if the air itself was suffocating. Gina took a step closer, her eyes unwavering despite the pressure.
> "You don't scare me, H.I.M."
> "Then you're the only one left in this city who doesn't," he growled, his voice layered with an inhuman distortion. "Leave before I forget your name too."
She shook her head.
> "You already forgot your own."
The moment those words left her lips, something snapped inside him. His aura erupted—dark tendrils swirling, the entire tunnel trembling under the weight of his fury. Concrete cracked beneath his boots as he clenched his fists.
> "Don't," he hissed. "Don't say it."
But Gina didn't stop. She took another step, her voice trembling but steady with conviction.
> "Hanks Ignatius Marvins," she said.
The name sliced through the storm like lightning.
For a brief second, his expression faltered. His red eyes flickered—a brief shimmer of human pain buried deep beneath years of darkness. Then it vanished, replaced by raw hatred.
In a blur, he appeared before her, his hand closing around her neck. The impact sent cracks through the ground. The darkness crawled up his arm like living ink, wrapping around her throat. Gina gasped but didn't scream.
> "You… don't get to speak that name!" H.I.M snarled, his voice trembling, his fingers tightening. "That name died the night they burned."
Her eyes softened. Even as the air left her lungs, she whispered hoarsely,
> "Then let me help you… find it again."
He froze. Her gaze wasn't filled with fear—only pity, and the echo of something he thought he'd killed years ago: hope.
The dark aura around him flickered.
> "Help?" he repeated, his tone dripping disbelief. "You think you can help me?"
> "You're not beyond saving, Hanks," she whispered, coughing through the pressure. "You're just lost in your own storm."
The name again.
And again, it burned him deeper than any bullet.
He released her suddenly, throwing her aside—not to kill her, but because he couldn't bear to hear that name echoing in the tunnel any longer. The shadows that coiled around his body lashed out at the walls before retreating into his chest.
Gina fell to her knees, coughing, her hand on her neck. She looked up at him—his back turned now, his breathing uneven.
There was silence. Only the rain tapping through the broken ceiling above.
> "If you truly want to save this city," she said softly, "then stop destroying what's left of it."
He paused. His voice, low and grim, rumbled through the tunnel.
> "You still don't get it. I'm not saving this city, Gina…"
"I'm cleansing it."
He vanished into the darkness with a thunderclap—gone, leaving behind only the lingering chill of his aura.
---
Meanwhile, miles above the ruined city, inside the cold, blue-lit chambers of the Bureau, Stellman sat hunched over his monitors. Sweat rolled down his forehead as the final sequences of the Black Code decrypted line by line.
> "Come on… come on…" he muttered.
Lines of ancient code scrolled across the screen—symbols older than the Bureau itself. Then, the final line unlocked, and the system released a sound—like a thousand whispers escaping from inside the computer.
The screen glowed red.
"ACCESS GRANTED: PROJECT DIVINITY // SUBJECT: H.I.M."
His heart froze.
> "Oh my god," he breathed. "It was him all along…"
He grabbed his coat, eyes blazing with grim determination, and stormed out of the bureau. Gina's last transmission was still playing faintly through his earpiece—her voice gasping, pleading with someone unseen.
> "Hanks… please… don't do this…"
Stellman's hand tightened around his gun.
> "Hang on, Gina. I'm coming."
And outside, the city lights flickered once more—as if Liberty itself was holding its breath for what was coming next.
---
End of Chapter 37 — "The Name Beneath the Shadow."