Viper stood frozen.
His mouth hung open as he stared at the pistol Jessica had twisted into scrap metal.
The Green Snake Gang wasn’t much more than a neighborhood outfit, and Viper himself was barely a lieutenant.
That insignificance was exactly why they’d dared to march into the Daily Planet and make threats.
Anyone with real standing in New York’s underworld knew better.
The newspaper looked ordinary from the outside.
It wasn’t.
Rumors about its owner had circulated for years.
One story in particular came up again and again.
The previous year, the Daily Planet had published an investigation exposing a money-laundering operation tied to Silvermane’s business empire.
The article had reportedly cost the aging crime boss millions.
Silvermane had taken the insult personally.
According to underworld gossip, he’d invited Richard Carter to a “private discussion.” Everyone understood what that phrase usually meant.
Richard had gone alone.
Several hours later, he’d walked back out alone.
Nothing happened.
No retaliation.
No revenge.
No attempt to silence the newspaper.
Then, sometime later, people spotted Silvermane and Richard attending the same charity gala.
Instead of treating the young publisher like an enemy…
Silvermane had greeted him with unmistakable respect.
No one knew what had happened during that private meeting.
No one asked.
They simply remembered the lesson.
If Silvermane, one of New York’s oldest and most powerful crime bosses, considered Richard Carter someone to avoid…
Everyone else followed suit.
Apparently…
No one had bothered explaining that rule to the Green Snake Gang.
They were learning it the hard way.
Viper swallowed.
The woman couldn’t operate a handgun.
Fine.
She clearly didn’t need one.
Who needed firearms when they could bend steel with their bare hands?
He wanted to leave.
Desperately.
Unfortunately, all of his men were watching.
Retreating now would destroy what little authority he had left.
Before he could think of something intimidating to say, Richard calmly dragged over a chair and sat across from him.
He picked up the ruined pistol.
“Gentlemen,” Richard said pleasantly, “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.” “We’re just a newspaper.” “Our job is simple.” “We report the truth.” “We show people what happened.” “Nothing more.” Viper barely heard a word.
His attention was fixed on Richard’s hands.
With casual ease, Richard grasped the pistol.
Twisted.
The bent barrel slowly straightened.
Steel groaned.
A moment later, the mangled weapon looked almost normal again.
Viper’s jaw dropped.
The gangsters around him went deathly pale.
What kind of newsroom did we just walk into?
‘Just a newspaper,’ my ass.
Richard continued speaking as though nothing unusual had happened.
“We’re not targeting your organization.” “We’re civilized people.” “Civilized people solve disagreements through conversation.” “Life would be awfully unpleasant if everything came down to whoever could hit the hardest.” Still smiling, he held the repaired pistol out to Viper.
Viper looked like he wanted to cry.
His instincts screamed at him to run.
His pride demanded one last performance.
With trembling hands, he accepted the gun.
“D-Don’t think this is over!” “The Green Snake Gang isn’t afraid of you!” “You’ll regret this!” His threat might have sounded more convincing if he hadn’t been backing toward the elevator while delivering it.
One of his men had already pressed the call button.
The doors opened.
Every gangster piled inside with remarkable speed.
Seconds later, the elevator disappeared.
The newsroom fell quiet.
Richard clapped his hands once.
“Show’s over.” “Back to work.” Everyone returned to their desks without complaint.
Phones started ringing again.
Keyboards resumed clicking.
The interruption had been treated less like a hostage situation and more like an unusually entertaining coffee break.
Jessica watched the employees disperse.
Not one of them had seemed frightened.
Not by the gangsters.
Not by Richard.
She looked at him curiously.
“You’re…?” Richard waved the question away.
“It’s nothing.” “I’ve just got a strong grip.” Jessica gave him a skeptical stare.
A strong grip?
You straightened a steel barrel with your bare hands.
That’s your definition of “strong?” Richard merely smiled.
Compared to turning into a giant of light, bending a handgun really wasn’t that impressive.
Jessica didn’t know that.
What she did know was something else.
For years, she’d never hidden her strength.
Almost everyone who discovered it reacted the same way.
Fear.
Distance.
Unease.
Sometimes all three at once.
People looked at her as though she were some beautiful but dangerous animal.
She’d grown accustomed to those looks.
She’d never learned to like them.
This newsroom was different.
Everyone here clearly knew their boss possessed abilities that ordinary people shouldn’t have.
Nobody treated him like a monster.
Nobody whispered behind his back.
Nobody acted afraid.
If they could accept Richard…
Maybe they could accept her, too.
And for the first time in years, Jessica had met someone who wasn’t ordinary.
At least, that’s what she believed.
After drifting from one job to another for so long…
She suddenly had the strange feeling she’d finally found somewhere she belonged.
“Don’t stand there daydreaming.” Richard’s voice snapped her back to reality.
“You’ve got work to do.” Jessica laughed quietly.
“Yeah.” “I know.” She turned toward her desk.
This time…
She couldn’t stop herself from smiling.