Outside a gleaming apartment complex in the wealthy Silverpoint district of Mayvel, Ashley Hunt stepped out of her black Mercedes.
Half a million dollars when she bought it, back when the show was pulling real numbers and the city still cared what CCN had to say. Now it just sat in the parking garage most days, too expensive to sell, too symbolic to let go.
Her phone rang sharply before she reached the marble lobby entrance.
She answered immediately.
"Do you have any fucking idea how much we invested in this?" Meil Gravenberch snapped. His voice crackled with barely contained rage through the speaker.
The executive producer at CCN had never once in his life led with hello when he was angry, and he was always angry lately.
Ashley pulled the phone away from her ear and switched to speakerphone, holding it at arm’s length as she walked. The cool night breeze tugged at her brown hair, still slightly messy from earlier chaos on the street.
"I paid an insider at Cloud, Ash. Do you have any idea how much that cost me?" He stopped himself before naming the figure. "And you blew it. Again."
"Meil, just let me—"
The line went dead. She stared at the darkened screen, jaw tight.
"Fuck," she whispered aloud, then quickly glanced up at the rows of glowing windows above her, hoping none of her corporate neighbors had heard.
She climbed the stairs to the second floor, heels in one hand, dead phone in the other.
『Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 』
At her door she pressed her thumb to the sleek biometric reader. The lock clicked open with a soft chime and she stepped inside.
This was where eighty percent of her salary went. A beautiful, carefully organized apartment she had absolutely refused to leave when her income started sliding, kept refusing as it slid further, and was still refusing now on sheer stubbornness and the quiet hope that things would turn around before the savings ran out entirely.
She dropped onto the wide gray sofa, letting her heels clatter onto the polished hardwood floor. She opened her phone.
Flamebird dominated Xitter, trending at number one with a massive lead.
#MakeFlamebirdAClassCHero
『Well, looks like HBM’s got themselves a new face. 』
She switched to Twitch Tak. Not because she had anything against Flamebird personally. She had everything against the Hero Bureau of Mayvel, the machine he was the newest polished gear of.
The first video auto-played, a shaky, low-quality recording from inside the convenience store. Harsh fluorescent lights, cheap shelves, and there, unmistakable in his red-and-blue suit, Flamebird collapsing hard onto the floor.
『Flamebird again. Algorithm really knows me. 』
She nearly scrolled past. Then the caption caught her eye. She replayed the clip.
『This has to be AI generated』
She went to the comments.
[If it’s really him, they’re taking this down in no time.]
[heroes don’t show up to places like this, this is obviously fake]
[it’s real. check the account. look up Glitch]
『Glitch』
She typed the name. A brand-new account appeared: @Glitch. Barely any prior content. Follower count sat at six hundred and climbing fast. She followed it and opened the full stream replay.
The footage played out in full: the nervous but determined masked man, the chaotic robbery, the back door, and finally, clear as day, Flamebird standing in the doorway right before the electric shot dropped him.
『This might actually be my comeback』
She had been standing right outside that store tonight. She had seen Flamebird vanish, then reappear minutes later with a zip-tied villain ready for the cameras. Now the real story was staring back at her from a low-budget villain stream.
『What if the whole thing was staged? 』
Ashley grabbed the TV remote. The large wall-mounted screen flickered to life while Glitch’s replay continued playing on her phone. Cloud News filled the display, Anna Young and Morris Evans seated under perfect studio lighting, teeth white, hair flawless.
She hated watching Cloud. She watched it every single night.
"The trajectory is undeniable," Anna said smoothly, leaning forward. "Flamebird’s numbers are climbing faster than any new hero in recent memory. Sources say the Hero Body is already discussing a Class C reclassification."
『Interesting. 』
"He deserves it," Morris said. "How many heroes actually show up to a corner store call? That takes something."
"Ohh, Flamebird." Anna’s voice dropped half a register, clearly off script. "I fall for him a little more every single day."
Morris laughed to cover it. "Every woman in Mayvel, apparently. Even Lady Vega commented on his Inster post."
On her phone speaker, Glitch’s voice cut through the polished broadcast like a knife:
"Memorize this. Your fame is borrowed. I’m here to collect."
Ashley sat up slowly, eyes darting between the glowing phone in her hands and the massive TV screen. The contrast felt almost violent, polished heroes under perfect lights versus raw, unfiltered truth from a cheap stream.
Her thumb hovered over Meil’s contact.
"Pick up, Meil... Come on."
***
Across the city, in a very different apartment.
Ren lay on his unmade bed, hands laced behind his head, phone held above his face. The screen’s glow was the only light in the room.
1.3K viewers. It felt huge in the moment, but now, staring at the trending charts, it looked painfully small. Flamebird’s face dominated every platform.
『Thought I had them this time... Thought the system would handle the rest. 』
At least the money had hit his account. That part was real. The front door creaked open. He heard it. Didn’t look up.
『Camilla. 』
The light came on.
"Ren." Camilla Bridge stood in the doorway taking in the room with the expression of someone who had stepped in something. "You actually live like this? This is disgusting."
Ren lowered his phone and looked at her. Her hair was blue now, freshly dyed and perfectly styled around sharp cheekbones.
"You could knock," he said.
Camilla laughed, bright and unbothered, as if the idea was ridiculous. "Since when do I knock?" She dropped her small designer bag onto the cluttered nightstand and reached for the hem of her top. "Come on, let’s make this quick. I’ve got plans."
"Not tonight, Mila."
She paused, fingers still on her shirt, and studied him. Her sharp eyes narrowed slightly.
She’d been sleeping with Ren for about four months, since her powers emerged and her body began running too hot to ignore. He was available, and completely unthreatening to an image that existed only in her head.
"Ren." Her voice took on that familiar edge, half amusement, half warning. "Are you seriously trying to negotiate right now?"
"I’m not negotiating. I’m just tired."
She stood there for a long moment, the overhead light casting long shadows across her face. She looked around the pathetic room again.
『You really think you’re special because a rising hero keeps making time for you』
"Okay." She picked up her bag. "Rot in your little sty, babe."
She turned and walked out, leaving the door wide open behind her.
Ren exhaled slowly, pushed himself up, and crossed the room. He closed the door with a soft click, turned off the light, and returned to his bed in darkness.
『Rising hero. Same shit. I know exactly where you’ll end up once that heat kicks in again』
He picked up his phone again, the screen lighting up his tired face once more.