Part II: Eyes in the Dark
Rain still clung to the city, streaking down streetlights and neon signs as though Meridian itself had not forgiven the night's violence. On the rooftop opposite the warehouse, Argus watched from the shadows. His lenses flickered, cycling through the surveillance feeds he had left behind: the freed girls running into safe houses, the unconscious guards strung up and exposed.
He allowed himself a moment — brief, fleeting, but it was there.
Victory.
Not total. Not even close. But these girls were alive. Tonight, at least, he had made a difference. That was something.
His voice, filtered through the mask, came quietly to himself.
"Not enough… but it's a start."
He returned to his lair beneath the abandoned subway, the storm outside masking the hum of servers. Screens blinked, streams of data feeding every camera and drone he had planted across the city. Every alley, every rooftop, every abandoned warehouse — a silent web connecting him to Meridian's shadows.
He moved through the space with methodical precision. Keyboard clicks, the hum of drones docking, monitors shifting — Argus analyzed every frame from the warehouse raid. Names, movements, routes. Every guard, every shipment, every weakness cataloged.
He paused on one screen, watching the faces of the girls he had saved. Their eyes were wide with fear, but alive. The smallest flicker of hope passed between them as they ran, and for the first time since Marin, Elias allowed himself the warmth of a single victory.
It was brief. He knew the city was bigger than this warehouse. Draegon's empire stretched beyond any one raid, beyond any single night. But the taste of success, small and bitter-sweet, reminded him why he became Argus.
Detective Marcus Rourke, in his precinct, was piecing together the story from what little evidence had survived the raid. Rumors of a "red-eyed vigilante" spread like wildfire. Some citizens whispered of a savior; others feared a monster.
Argus did not concern himself with headlines. Not yet. He had no need for approval, only results.
And yet…
For the first time, he allowed himself to acknowledge what he had accomplished. One small victory, one step toward justice, one life saved.
It mattered.
But the city never slept, and neither would its predators. Somewhere in a high-rise office, Victor Draegon swirled his drink, staring at images of the empty warehouse and the disruption Argus had caused. His smile was sharp, predatory.
"They move faster than I thought," he said quietly, though anger laced the words. "Find him. Make him pay. Make him suffer."
Argus watched through his visor as the storm washed over the city. Somewhere out there, Draegon's men would regroup, reassess, and retaliate. But tonight, Argus allowed himself to feel it.
I did something right.
And that small victory, fragile as it was, became the spark that would ignite a war the city had never seen coming.