Riven leaned back in his chair, the metal frame letting out a sharp, lonely creak that echoed against the raw concrete walls. He let the chair spin in a slow, lazy circle, his eyes drifting across the reinforced glass of the holding cell. That was when he noticed it—a small, crimson button mounted low on the wall, nearly hidden in the shadows of the machinery.
He pointed at it with a flick of his wrist. "What's that button over there?"
Asm didn't turn his head immediately. He was busy adjusting the cuffs of his suit, his movements precise and mechanical. He followed Riven's gaze with a side-long glance, his expression unreadable behind the cloth covering his eyes.
"Oh. That?" Asm said, his voice flat. "It activates a thermal sequence inside the cell. It heats the interior from the floor up, boiling the air within the space slowly. It's useful for those who think silence is a choice."
Riven stared at the button, then looked back at Asm with a playful, dangerous grin. "For real? You actually went out and picked a machine to do the heavy lifting over me? I'm hurt, Asm. I thought we had a dynamic going."
Asm didn't laugh. He didn't even crack a smile. He simply adjusted his sleeve and replied without missing a beat. "A machine doesn't accidentally burn the victims. It doesn't get bored, and it doesn't leave room for human error. It's consistent."
Riven blinked, the smirk on his face widening as he conceded the point. "Fair. Consistency is expensive, but I guess it pays off."
The playful air in the room evaporated instantly as Riven's posture shifted. He straightened up, his feet planting firmly on the cold floor. "Kade called."
Asm's attention sharpened. He didn't move, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"He said some of the higher-ups are pushing for the military to take over the investigation," Riven continued. "A killer with over a thousand victims... it's making the people at the top look weak. They're getting desperate."
Asm's brows furrowed beneath his mask. "The military?" he asked quietly. "That's unusual. In this city, it's usually the police or the intelligence agencies. If things get truly out of hand, the high-ranking heroes are supposed to step in. The military doesn't just walk onto domestic streets unless something is broken."
"Even Kade was shocked," Riven replied, his voice low. "They're already feeding the press excuses. They're calling it a matter of national security, top secret. They claim the heroes are too loud and that the Rank 2 herself won't report anyone unless they're 'interesting' enough to catch her eye. The police are drowning, and the government wants to show they still have teeth."
Asm's expression changed completely. The mask couldn't hide the sudden, cold intensity radiating from him. "That stupid government…"
Riven tilted his head. "What? You think they're actually trying to solve the problem?"
"This is a setup," Asm stated.
"Explain."
Asm turned fully toward him, his hands resting on the edge of the steel table. "They aren't trying to catch a killer; they're trying to isolate me. They know that if the military intervenes, the Hero won't be able to provide me with a shield anymore. Attacking a soldier makes you an enemy of the state. Even with her power, even with her influence, she wouldn't be able to cover for someone who kills a military officer. They're trying to force her to step aside so they can come for me directly."
Riven's smile faded into a thin, grim line. The weight of the political move finally landed.
"And they've figured it out," Asm finished. "They know I'm the one they're looking for."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Riven crossed his arms, staring at the man chained to the wall in the corner. "So, what are you going to do? We can't exactly go to war with the army."
Asm stared at the concrete for a long moment. Then, a slow, jagged smile formed on his face. "Get your men ready, Riven. We're doing this quickly. Silently. If the government wants to change the rules, we'll simply change the government."
Riven let out a dry laugh. "Don't you think that's a bit rushed? Why not try a bribe first?"
"It's better to take out the trash before it spills over the floor," Asm said. He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over a contact saved simply as: Tool.
He pressed call.
Miles away, in a part of the city that felt like a different world entirely, the Hero lay upside down across a massive, plush couch. Her room was a chaotic explosion of "cute"—thick lavender carpet, shelves overflowing with stuffed animals, and LED lights that cast a soft, artificial glow over everything. A giant TV was paused mid-game.
She didn't look like a weapon of war. She looked like a girl who loved comfort.
But she wasn't sleeping. Her eyes were half-closed, her body perfectly still. Out of the millions of voices echoing through the city, she had filtered them all out. She blocked the traffic, the police radios, and the mundane conversations of the masses.
She kept only one voice.
She had been listening to Asm the entire time. She heard the talk about the military, the government's plan, and the fact that she wouldn't be able to back him up if soldiers were involved. She heard it all because she chose to.
When his thumb hovered over the call button in that basement, she was already smiling.
The phone buzzed. She moved with an explosion of speed that sent loose clothes flying and caused the TV to shake from the sudden shift in air pressure. In less than a second, she was standing downstairs, hair perfectly fixed, answering with a bright, cheerful tone.
"Hey, Asm!"
Back underground, Asm showed no surprise. He had studied her. He knew her hearing, her speed, and the way she could influence minds. He knew even his own thoughts weren't entirely safe when she was around. He had studied the Demon Lord with the same cold precision. Not to be friends, but to know exactly how to kill them if he ever needed to.
"Hello, big sis," Asm said calmly.
The moment the words hit her ears, her face lit up with a joy so intense it looked like she might burst.
"I know what you need," she said, her voice bubbling over. "I'll be there. There's no need for you to do anything. Just stay home and relax, okay?"
She hung up, her silhouette vanishing into the night as she moved toward the city center.
Asm lowered the phone, the screen's glow fading against the dim light of the basement. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the ragged, wet breathing of the man chained to the wall.
Riven stood up, smoothing the wrinkles out of his trousers. "So, 'Big Sis' is handling the red tape. That leaves us with the loose end." He gestured vaguely toward the prisoner, who had managed to lift his head, his one good eye darting between the two men in a frenzy of silent pleading.
Asm didn't respond immediately. He walked toward the steel table, his footsteps clicking rhythmically on the concrete. He didn't reach for the elaborate tools or the blades lined up in surgical order. Instead, he simply looked at the man.
"You were sent by Elizabeth," Asm said, his voice devoid of anger. It was worse than being angry; it was indifferent. "You've served your purpose. You've given me her name, and you've shown me exactly how she intends to play."
The man tried to speak, but only a choked, gurgling sound escaped his throat. He strained against the chains, the metal rattling violently against the reinforced wall.
"Riven," Asm said quietly. "You should probably head up. Nyra will wonder why you're still down here."
Riven understood the subtext. He didn't need to see the conclusion. He offered a short, sharp nod and turned toward the lift. "Don't be too long. The steak Nyra's making is actually edible this time."
As the lift doors hissed shut, the basement became a tomb.
Asm stepped closer to the prisoner. He reached out, his hand steady as he gripped the man's chin, forcing him to look directly into the cloth covering his eyes.
"Tell her," Asm whispered, though he knew the man wouldn't live to repeat it. "Tell her that a tool has no use for a master who can't even hide her own tracks."
He reached for the small red button Riven had noticed earlier. There was no hesitation. No dramatic pause. He pressed it with a firm, singular motion.
The hum of the machinery surged. The floor of the cell began to glow with a dull, orange hue as the thermal coils activated. The air inside the glass distorted, shimmering like a desert road at noon. The prisoner's eyes widened to a terrifying degree, his body tensing as the heat began to rise from the soles of his feet through the rest of his frame.
Asm didn't look away. He watched with a cold, analytical gaze as the man's final struggle began and ended. He watched until the movement stopped, and the only sound left was the mechanical drone of the cooling fans kicking in to reset the room.
He turned his back on the cell, adjusted his tie, and walked toward the exit. By the time he reached the stairs, his expression was as calm and polished as it had been at dinner.
A week passed.
Asm sat in his living room, watching the flickering light of the news. The anchor's voice sounded tense, struggling to maintain a professional tone.
"Due to recent instability and mounting pressure within the capital, the state government has officially signed an emergency decree. Effective immediately, all administrative authority and oversight powers have been transferred to the Hero."
Asm's mouth slowly opened. On the screen, she stood at a podium—calm, smiling, and in total control. The government that had tried to trap him had, in their desperation to maintain order, handed the keys to the city to the one person who would do anything for him.
Across the city, Riven watched the same broadcast and burst into a fit of genuine, loud laughter. "This world never ceases to amaze me."