The Port of Newark always smelled sharp—salt, ozone, and bleach cutting through everything.
You’d think hiding anything out here would be impossible.
Still, Vought’s crisis team rolled in early—3 AM on the dot—scrubbing blood, dragging out Triad bodies, erasing every stain before the news vans showed up.
By nine, you couldn’t find a drop of red, just a spotless crime scene, sanitized and fake.
I stood smack in the middle of the floor in a stiff, white suit.
Annie January—Starlight—stood right beside me, glowing in her gold-and-white costume.
Her smile looked perfect and electric from a distance, but up close, you could spot the cracks.
Camera lights blinked everywhere, their lenses sweating in the sticky air.
“So,” I said, zeroing in on the main camera, flashing my most trustworthy grin, “when we got a tip about a cartel weapons ring at these docks, Vought moved instantly.
Starlight and I locked the place down.” I nodded at Annie.
She looked like she’d rather be anywhere else but managed a pageant smile for the cameras.
“That’s right, Invincible,” Annie said, every word straight out of Ashley Barrett’s script.
“New York belongs to its people, not violent syndicates.
We’re just grateful we stopped it before anyone got hurt.” Ashley, just beyond the cameras, paced and yelled.
“Cut!
Perfect!
Print it!” she shouted, clapping so hard it echoed.
“Invincible, your Q-rating’s about to melt the servers—brilliant!” “Glad to help, Ashley,” I replied, putting on the friendly hero act.
Suddenly, reporters swarmed in, shoving mics toward Annie.
She edged back, flinching from the harsh smell and whirring camera flashes.
I slid in front, soaking up the pressure.
That was my role in all this—draw their fire, let them forget the ugly truth.
“Invincible, is it true the cartel used heavy explosives?” someone called out.
“I’ll take your questions outside,” I said, tossing Ashley another grin.
“Let the crew, and Starlight, catch their breath.” I herded the reporters into the damp morning light, keeping up the show.
The sooner I could wrap this up, the sooner I could get back to real work—like keeping an eye on Butcher.
Inside, with the cameras gone, Annie dropped the act.
She stood there hugging herself, shivering in the echo of gunfire, staring at the damage.
Walls peppered with bullet holes.
Craters in the floor.
The “cartel bust” line didn’t match this much destruction—cartels shot up warehouses, not pulverized them.
Needing a break, Annie slipped down a half-cleaned stairwell.
The basement stunk of blood and sewage.
It was even uglier down here.
In the middle, a cage waited.
She stopped, cold.
Not for weapons—a steel box, layered with heavy mesh.
The lock was trashed.
She crept closer, checking the walls.
Deep, twisted gouges—animal scratches, not bullets.
“What happened here?” she murmured.
She edged in.
Torn restraints littered the floor.
Someone had been chained up like an experiment.
She knelt by a sticky bloodstain the bleach couldn’t scrub out.
As she rose, her boot nudged something under the broken concrete.
She bent down, found a charred clipboard missed by the sweepers.
Most of it was ash, but one laminated sheet clung on.
A shipping manifest.
She wiped the dirt off.
No Triad mark, nothing cartel.
Only the official blue-and-white Vought International stamp.
Below that: PHARMACY DIVISION – SUB-LEVEL 50.
LIVE CARGO ASSET: K-89.
AUTHORIZED TRANSFER.
Her heart pounded.
None of this lined up.
Vought hadn’t busted a cartel—they’d been guarding this cage.
Something got out, and Vought built it.
A voice called out behind her—one of the cleanup crew.
“You can’t be down here, Starlight.
This area isn’t cleared for press.” Annie jumped, clutching the manifest.
She shoved it deep into her cape.
“Sorry, I… I got lost looking for the restroom,” she said, voice shaky.
“Upstairs, miss.
Please,” the cleaner replied.
Back in the sunlight, I was spinning a story about pizza when my hearing snagged on a spike inside—a panicked heartbeat.
Annie’s.
Her cape whispered as she hurried up the stairs.
A car door slammed, engine roared, and she tore off from the docks, not looking back.
I held my hero grin for the cameras, mind racing.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
I figured Vought’s detail had cleaned every inch before we walked in—standard drill.
But Annie tore out of there, panic pouring off her.
Vought botched it—bad.
And honestly, I almost laughed.
Vought handed Annie a piece of the truth.
I didn’t know exactly what, but it was enough.
The rules just changed.
Starlight had stopped playing along.
And Vought?
They didn’t even realize what they’d set loose.
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