Part VII: Shadows of the Past
The city was quiet now, but Argus never slept. From the rooftop of a crumbling high-rise, red lenses scanning the streets below, he let his thoughts drift to the one man who had shaped his life more than any other: Victor Draegon.
Draegon's name was whispered in the halls of power and in the alleys alike. Wealthy, charismatic, untouchable — the perfect mask for the monster beneath. To the public, he was a philanthropist, a businessman who revitalized Meridian's corporate skyline. But Argus knew the truth. The empire Draegon built with his silver tongue and legal façade was stained with blood, corruption, and cruelty.
And worst of all: Draegon had taken Marin.
Years ago, Argus's sister had been vibrant, full of life, untouchable in the way only a child could be. Draegon had seen her not as a person, not as a human being — but as a plaything, a pawn in a game of power and control. His influence in Meridian's criminal underworld was enough to orchestrate her disappearance, to remove her from Argus's life and leave him with only guilt, rage, and the unbearable weight of helplessness.
Elias had searched for years, following whispers, tracking shadows, running every lead into dead ends. And every failure sharpened his resolve, hardened his body, and fueled the fire that would become Argus.
Draegon was cunning. He wasn't just a gangster; he was a strategist, a manipulator. He built layers of criminal enterprises under the guise of legitimate business. Nightshade. Arms trafficking. Human trafficking. Blackmail and bribery stretching into the city's government. Every operation carefully masked, every subordinate expendable.
Argus hated him not just for what he had done to Marin, but for what he represented: the embodiment of corruption, cruelty, and untouchable power. Draegon didn't just kill, kidnap, or sell — he made it personal, deliberate, methodical. He reveled in the control he had over others, including Argus.
Every Nightshade shipment crushed, every gang leader captured, every criminal disrupted — it was a step toward Draegon. But Argus knew this would not end with small victories. One man had to pay for everything: for his sister, for the lives ruined, for Meridian itself.
Argus's mask reflected the city below as he clenched his fists beneath the gauntlets. The red lenses glowed brighter as he imagined Draegon, sitting comfortably in a high-rise office, swirling a glass of something expensive while the city burned beneath him.
"You think you're untouchable," Argus whispered to the night. "You think your money, your power, your reputation protects you. But I'm coming. I've waited too long. I've watched too much. And I will find you."
He reviewed every piece of intelligence, every thread leading back to Draegon: his front companies, secret warehouses, guarded residences, and the few men who had ever seen the full extent of his operations. Draegon was meticulous, yes — but even the perfect shadow left traces. And Argus had learned to follow them.
The city below was alive with crime, corruption, and despair. Argus didn't look at it and see chaos. He saw opportunity, control, a chessboard where every piece could be moved, crushed, or turned against its master.
And Draegon, at the center of it all, would soon learn that even untouchable men can bleed.
Every step I've taken. Every gang I've broken. Every shipment destroyed. All leads here. All roads lead to you.
Argus turned, pulling his cloak tighter, eyes glowing red as he scanned the horizon. Meridian had no idea what was coming.
But he did.
And so did Draegon.