In the middle of the morning, back at The Azure Dominion—where the prison facility is located—Samuel and the Advents escaped together by fighting their way out. Authorities were present both outside and inside, conducting an investigation into the prison break. Outside, they gathered the bodies of dead guards scattered across the grounds. Inside, they collected broken pieces of Sentinels and Elite Sentinels littering the prison hallways.
One of the investigators on site was Michael Reyes Santos—a notorious bounty hunter and detective. He ran a bounty hunting business from a shop called The Iron Collar and worked with the government to catch both ordinary criminals and high-ranking targets. Beyond capturing outlaws, he also hunted dangerous monsters, threatening HoloCity. In addition to his titles as a bounty hunter and detective, he was renowned as a master swordsman—no one in HoloCity could match his skill with a blade.
Michael took the world seriously—unlike Samuel—especially when it came to the enemies and criminals he faced. Even if opponents posed no real threat to him, he never underestimated them, even when he could defeat them effortlessly. He was ruthless toward criminals: while he followed a "no-kill rule" similar to Batman's, he often beat suspects so brutally that they developed trauma or PTSD from the encounter, breaking bones and inflicting serious injuries before sending them to prison.
This reputation struck fear into criminals—some refused to leave prison for fear of encountering him. His harsh methods had proven effective—HoloCity boasted an extremely low crime rate as a result. That said, Michael would not hesitate to kill if he deemed a criminal an irredeemable threat.
In bounty hunting and monster-slaying, Michael operated alone and was compensated by the government, making him a multi-billionaire. The government had specifically tasked him with capturing his younger twin brother, Samuel Reyes Santos—whom , who were considered too powerful to apprehend alone. For his services, they paid him millions.
In his mid-twenties, Michael had a disciplined, stoic, and introverted personality. Standing approximately 195.58 cm (6'5") tall, he was handsome, tall, and muscular, attracting many admirers. Despite attention from women, he remained indifferent, fully focused on managing his successful businesses. He was an honorable warrior who adhered to his own moral code and discipline—he despised dirty fighting and refused to use firearms, which he deemed useless (in contrast to his brother, who relied on guns in combat).
Michael wore a long, bright blue coat with yellow accents on the collar, shoulder epaulettes, and cuffs; the coat's inner lining was yellow and flowed behind him. Underneath the open coat, he wore a purple zip-up top paired with form-fitting grey trousers and tall brown boots with lighter brown soles. He also wore white cotton gloves and a silver necklace with a magenta pendant.
His very fair skin—sometimes mistaken for pale due to its brightness—and black hair swept back with a bang on the right side of his face - emphasized his fierce yet stoic expression, and has amber eyes. When his hair was brushed down or wet, his appearance was nearly identical to Samuel's, with the only visible difference being Samuel's white hair versus Michael's black.
Michael's weapon was a katana named Samehada. He held the sheath in his right hand, identifying him as left-handed (though ambidextrous—both he and Samuel were taught by their parents to wield weapons with either hand; Michael simply preferred his left, especially when drawing Samehada). Samehada had a sleek, dark-coloured sheath with a subtle sheen. Its hilt was white with black patterned wrapping, topped by a gold pommel. A yellow cord wrapped around the edge of the sheath, and a long yellow scabbard hung from the guard. The katana's colour scheme was reversed: the sharp edge was black, while the dull side was white.
While authorities collected broken pieces of Sentinels, Michael knelt in the hallway, using his left hand to pick up a bullet casing from the floor. His expression remained stoic and serious.
Michael turned the bullet casing over in his gloved fingers, holding it up to catch the light filtering through the prison's high windows. The marking on its surface was unmistakable—Desert Eagle. A low, quiet growl rumbled in his chest. He also noticed black ink on the wall next to where he'd found the bullet.
"Detective Santos?" a voice said behind him. "It's good to see you being part of the operation."
Michael looked up to find a government agent wearing a tuxedo. His name was Francisco L. Smith, a middle-aged man. Francisco was the chief of security for the guards; he walked toward Michael with a warm smile. Michael stood up and turned to face him, his expression stoic and calm.
Francisco was a tall, average-built man in his 50s or 60s. He had brown hair often streaked with white or grey, a thick moustache similarly streaked, and wore glasses. He was usually dressed as a police officer or in business casual attire, often wearing a large brown or tan trench coat over a navy blue or grey suit. He wore a necktie, usually red or brown, and frequently displayed his police badge on his jacket or shirt.
"Ah, welcome, Mr. Santos. The men and I are honoured by your presence," Francisco said respectfully.
Michael bowed slightly and said calmly, "Likewise. It's an honour working with the government." The two men chuckled.
Francisco then looked at him seriously and asked, "So, what have you found, Mr. Santos? Are there any clues as to who was responsible for this prison break?"
Michael held out the bullet casing between his gloved thumb and forefinger, letting Francisco examine it closely.
"Desert Eagle rounds," Michael stated flatly. "Custom-made, from what I can tell. Only one person I know favours that weapon—my brother." He said this with a stoic expression. "And not just that—I also noticed a streak of black ink on the wall where I picked up the casing. I'm guessing he wasn't alone when he escaped."
Francisco's eyes narrowed as he studied the bullet casing, then followed Michael's gaze to the black ink mark on the wall. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notepad, jotting down notes.
"Alone? That complicates things," Francisco muttered, furrowing his brow. "We already knew your brother was powerful enough to take on our Sentinels alone—but if he had help..."
"He did," Michael interrupted, turning to examine the ink streak more closely. He ran a gloved finger lightly over the mark, then held it up to the light. "This isn't just random smudging. I sense magic in this ink—I'm guessing whoever helped him uses ink-based powers." He straightened up, jaw set firmly. "Samuel never worked with others unless he had to. Whatever group he's with now—they're not ordinary prisoners."
Francisco's eyes widened as he recalled a prisoner with ink-based abilities: Shiori Novella. She was part of a group called the Advents, whom the government had captured just days earlier. "Could they have been the ones who helped him escape?" he thought, resting his hand on his chin.
Francisco looked up, his expression grim. "I think I know who you're talking about," he said, flipping through pages until he found what he was looking for. "Shiori Novella—she's listed as having 'arcane ink manipulation' abilities. Her entire group, the Advents, were brought to Azure Dominion and imprisoned here for crimes they committed. Offences include possessing forbidden knowledge, causing mass madness through song, and engaging in chaotic, destructive behaviour."
Michael's gaze hardened as he turned back to Francisco. "The Advents... who are they?" he asked seriously.
Francisco sighed heavily, closing his notepad and sliding it into his pocket. "They're five dangerous women—not like most criminals we lock up. Each has unique abilities—dangerous even by our standards. Beyond Shiori's ink magic, there's Nerrisa Ravencroft, who can manipulate sound waves to bend minds and shatter objects. Then there are the twins, Fuwawa and Mococo Abyssgard—their combined power can tear open small rifts in space."
Michael crossed his arms, eyes closed as he absorbed the information. "Forbidden knowledge, mind control, dimensional rifts... sounds like exactly the kind of group Samuel would avoid," he thought. Then he glanced back at Francisco and asked calmly, "What crimes did they commit?" His stoic expression unchanged.
Francisco nodded, pulling out documents and pictures of all the Advent girls. "Here—take this," he said, handing them over. Michael took the materials with both hands—his left holding documents while his right examined pictures. His eyes widened slightly in surprise at the images; the five women were beautiful and charming. Shiori and Nerrisa were striking, while Bijou, Fuwawa, and Mococo were cute.
Francisco then detailed each Advent's crimes: "Shiori Novella ('The Archiver')—imprisoned for obsessively collecting and guarding forbidden, dangerous knowledge. Koseki Bijou ('The Jewel of Emotions')—imprisoned because her intense, ancient brilliance caused humans to fight over her. Nerrisa Ravencroft ('The Demon of Sound')—sealed away by gods because her powerful singing drove people mad and nearly destroyed the world. Fuwawa & Mococo Abyssgard ('The Demon Guard Dogs')—imprisoned for being mischievous and meddlesome, causing widespread chaos"
Francisco rested his hand on his chin, expression serious. "But the question is—why would Samuel team up with them if he could have escaped alone?"
Michael spoke, stoic as ever: "It's simple—because he found them attractive." He said calmly, surprising Francisco. "My brother is a playboy who loves the company of beautiful women. There's no doubt he wouldn't hesitate to team up with the Advents."
Francisco stared, mouth slightly agape. "Attractive? That's... that's the reason?" He shook his head, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You mean he joined forces with five dangerous criminals... just because they're good-looking?" His tone angry. "We're talking about some of the most dangerous individuals we've ever incarcerated, and your brother teamed up with them because he thinks they're pretty?"
"Precisely," Michael said flatly. "It may sound absurd, but knowing my foolish little brother, it makes perfect sense. He's always been drawn to strong, beautiful women—and with abilities like theirs, they're far more than just pretty faces." His gaze drifted back to the pictures, fingers tracing the edge of one showing all five Advents together. "Samuel has always prioritized desires over logic when it comes to women," he said calmly, folding the documents and slipping them into his coat pocket. "But don't mistake his motivations for weakness—if he's allied with them, he values their abilities, too. He wouldn't associate with anyone he couldn't trust to watch his back."
Then, a uniformed guard approached Michael and Francisco, face pale with nerves. "Sir, we found something in Samuel's cell—specifically, in the bathroom. There's a dead guard's body there," he said seriously.
Francisco's jaw tightened. "Show us," he said sharply. The guard nodded and led them down sterile corridors, past shattered Sentinels and stained walls. Reaching Samuel's cell, the door stood ajar, with a faint scent of copper in the air.
Inside, a small bathroom opened off the main room. A guard's body lay slumped against the tiled wall—uniform torn, head twisted unnaturally to the side, tongue protruding. Francisco knelt to investigate; cause of death was a broken neck. He searched the body and found a wallet with an ID card: Jenkins Antonio—part of the patrol, monitoring the SSS-level cells where Samuel and the Advents had been imprisoned Michael stood silently outside, observing.
Michael stepped into the bathroom, gloved hands, examining the wall beside the body. Exiting to search for more clues, his foot caught on something. Looking down, he saw a metal restraining collar lying next to a set of keys.
He knelt to examine them. The collar had a central metallic module housing a red LED, with boxy grey attachments on either side—giving it a rugged, futuristic look.
All prisoners were required to wear these collars to suppress powers, whether human or monster. Samuel and others were unable to access their Oudéterim abilities while inside. The keys appeared to unlock both collars and cell doors.
Francisco frowned. "I know this man—he patrolled the SSS-level cells." He slipped Jenkins' ID into his pocket. "But how? How did Samuel kill him while wearing a collar that suppresses powers?"
Michael's eyes remained fixed on the spot where the collar had fallen; his mind piecing together events as if he lived them. Kneeling beside the discarded collar, gloved fingers brushed lightly over its metal surface. Then he called out, "Francisco, come here." His voice echoed down the hall.
Francisco joined him. Eyes widened. "What is it?" he asked, surprised.
"I know how my brother escaped," Michael said, looking directly at him.
"Really?" Francisco replied.
Michael's expression was stoic. "Two possibilities: either the guard helped him, or Samuel used deception—playing weak to lure Jenkins in." Flat tone, gaze drifting toward cell door. "The key wasn't just for his collar. With those patrol keys, he could access every SSS-level cell in this block."
Francisco's eyes widened in realization. "Every SSS-level cell... That means he could have freed the Advents too," he breathed, straightening up. "That's why the whole group is gone—not just Samuel."
"I'm not sure," Michael said calmly. "Either the Advents had something to do with his escape, or they met in the prison hallway."
Just then, the guard who'd alerted them earlier rushed back, face paler. "Sir! Sir, more trouble," he panted, stopping outside the cell. "The armoury's been breached—most weapons untouched, but Samuel's two pistols and swords are missing."
Francisco swore under his breath. "Of course, he targeted his weapons first. Any leads on direction?"
Michael stood and walked toward the exit. He wouldn't waste time. "I'll track down Samuel and his new allies even if it means turning this entire planet upside down. I will hunt them down."
Noticing Michael leaving, Francisco spoke, surprised. "Wait—you're leaving now? We haven't finished compiling all evidence."
Michael stopped but didn't turn his head. "I've gathered enough. I'm ready for my confrontation with my foolish little brother," he said calmly. "I work best alone. Keep authorities off their trail for now—regular guards would only get hurt. Let me handle this. When I find them, I'll bring all six in without unnecessary bloodshed." He paused, gaze distant. "This is family business. I must handle it myself." Then he continued walking.
At the doorway, he looked back at Francisco. "One more thing—I'll need access to everything on the Advents: known associates, possible hideouts, any activity patterns."
"Of course," Francisco said quickly, falling in step beside him. "I'll have all files sent to your shop by sunset. But Michael—be careful. These aren't common outlaws. The Advents were sealed away once before for a reason."
Michael nodded and headed outside. His left hand instinctively moved to the hilt of Samehada at his right hip. He raised his right hand, drew Samehada, and sliced twice through the air, forming a cross—cutting through reality itself. As the portal took shape, he spun Samehada with his left hand, slowly sheathed it, and then stepped calmly into the portal. Francisco and the guard remained inside Samuel's cell.
Minutes later, inside The Iron Collar, Michael stood before a board pinned with pictures of the Advents—with Samuel's photo at the centre. His expression was stoic and serious, coatless, wearing a sleeveless purple zip-up vest with a small blue pendant at the collar, revealing defined muscles in his arms and shoulders. He wore grey pants, tall brown boots, and white gloves.
The shop was clean and well-furnished. Walls painted in beige and creamy hues offset dark furniture. Near the door, black couches circled a rustic walnut coffee table atop a dark red circular carpet—a comfortable display for clients. Further in was a sizable wooden office desk with stationery supplies and several notebooks neatly resting on the left side. On the right sat a vintage Victorian telephone and a framed picture of Michael, Samuel, and their parents.
To the right of the desk, a staircase led to a smaller second level. The personal corridor contained a bed next to a wardrobe that seamlessly blended with a full bookshelf. Across from the bookshelf was a comfortable chair with a small circular table, perfect for a candle lamp and Michael's current book of interest. Michael had everything needed for his bounty hunting business, courtesy of government payments. For monster-slaying clients, his manager Morrison S. Jonathan, a great friend, supplied work.
Michael's expression was serious and cold as he studied the photos pinned to the board, sharp eyes tracing every detail, arms folded. Each Advent radiated power and danger uniquely. Despite their beauty, he knew better than to underestimate them. This was not just family loyalty—it was about stopping a threat that could tear HoloCity apart if unchecked.
Michael turned his gaze to Samuel's photo at the centre. His twin brother's smirk was defiant, confident, and reckless. Michael clenched his fists beneath his gloves, his expression cold. "Where are you hiding, little brother?" he murmured. Then he noticed the shop door open. Looking around, with a serious expression, he awaited the visitor. The door slowly opened, revealing Morrison carrying a briefcase full of money in his left hand.
Morrison was a tall, average-built man in his 40s or 50s. He had short, neatly styled light brown or blond hair and a distinct, thin moustache. His sharp facial features carried a calm, slightly serious expression. He wore a dark suit jacket beneath an overcoat paired with a deep red or maroon patterned waistcoat. He also wore a black cowboy hat, with a light-colored (white or pale blue) dress shirt and a dark necktie or cravat visible at his neck. His dark grey or black trousers complemented the formal style, completing his polished, classic look.
Michael's sharp eyes flicked up at Morrison, his expression unreadable as the briefcase changed hands. "Morrison," he said quietly, raising his eyebrows as he looked at him.
Morrison nodded, holding his hat. "Yeah, I just came to check on you and see if you're okay," he said. Noticing that Michael was busy, he added, "Oh, you seem tied up with government work. Should I go outside?"
Michael shook his head slowly, his expression softening just a little. "No, stay. I could use a break from all this chaos," he said, walking toward his desk and sitting down in a white plastic chair. His stoic expression remained unchanged. Leaning on the desk, he rested both hands against his chin. His sword, Samehada, lay on the right side of the desk alongside a Victorian telephone.
Morrison approached, standing in front of the desk with a calm and collected demeanour. "You seem very fatigued. Is something wrong?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. "This government work is wearing on you more than usual," he remarked.
Michael sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah, it's more complicated this time. My foolish little brother isn't just a runaway criminal—he's teamed up with some dangerous terrorists known as the Advents," he said, closing his eyes and gripping the sides of the chair.
Morrison nodded. "Oh, is that so? I heard about this in the news—about the recent prison break at The Azure Dominion." His tone remained calm. "The reports said six individuals escaped and went on a killing spree in the prison."
Michael rubbed his temples and sighed deeply. "That's just the surface. Those Advents are no ordinary criminals. Each one has powers capable of destabilizing entire sectors of HoloCity. Now that Samuel is working with them, the stakes are raised even higher."
Morrison ran a hand through his hair, his calm demeanour faltering slightly. "This isn't just another bounty, then. You're dealing with something that could change the entire game."
Michael's gaze hardened as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk. "Exactly. Each of them possesses weapons and abilities that could threaten the entire city—magic, mind control, and even the power to tear through space itself. And now, they've teamed up with Samuel. If that alliance holds, they could unleash chaos on an unprecedented scale."
Morrison folded his arms and nodded gravely. "Do you have a plan to track them down?"
Michael's eyes sharpened. As he leaned back into his chair, he rested both hands on his chin. "I need to gather every piece of information I can. With Francisco L. Smith's help, I want details on the Advents—their known hideouts, associates, and past activities. Then, it's a matter of narrowing their movements and predicting their next strike."
Morrison nodded, understanding perfectly. He knew how Francisco L. Smith operated—Michael's partner in the government. Morrison himself was his partner and manager for monster-slaying operations. He hesitated briefly, then spoke worriedly: "You know, you really should take some time off now and then. Go on vacation or something. You can't keep pushing yourself like this."
Michael looked at Morrison, and his expression softened for just a moment. "I appreciate your concern, Morrison. But I can't afford to rest right now. My duty is to do this. I can't just sit idly by while the city is in danger from these criminals. It's my responsibility, and I will see it through to the end."
Morrison nodded. "I understand. I'm just saying—you need to rest sometimes. Don't overdo it." He smiled warmly. "Besides, I don't want you looking exhausted when you're out there slaying monsters."
Michael chuckled and smirked. "Oh, don't worry—I never get tired of slaying monsters," he said. Leaning on his desk, he rested his chin on his hands. Morrison chuckled in return. "By the way, what's in that briefcase you're carrying?" he asked, referring to the case Morrison held in his left hand.
Morrison smirked slightly before setting the briefcase gently on the desk. He opened it, revealing stacks of neatly bundled cash, thick with bills—money earned from various missions and contracts. "Just some payout for recent jobs," Morrison said with a grin. "Nothing too urgent," he added with a smirk.
Michael stared intently at the pile of money, a flicker of surprise breaking through his stoic demeanour. "That's a lot of money," he remarked, raising an eyebrow. "What's the payoff this time?"
Morrison smirked again and said, "The usual. For this job, I'll be handling the logistics—enough to keep us well-funded, no matter how long this takes."
Michael nodded, still leaning on his desk with his hands resting under his chin. "I see. Very well, I'll take this," he said in a calm tone, his expression stoic.
Morrison nodded, adjusted his hat, and said, "Well, since I've finally given you your payment, I'll be going now."
Michael nodded in response. "See you later then, Morrison," he said calmly.
Morrison stopped halfway to the door, then turned around to face Michael. "Oh, before I go, you have new clients outside—four beautiful women," he announced. Michael raised an eyebrow, his expression stoic and calm.
Michael's eyebrow twitched slightly, but his face remained expressionless. "Four women?" he repeated quietly, standing up and straightening his vest. "Do we know anything about them? Names? Affiliations? Powers?"
Morrison shrugged, his smirk fading into a more serious expression. "No idea. They arrived just moments ago, asking for you by name. Said they had urgent business. I thought you should know," he said, turning toward the door and waving his hand. "I'll call them in." He then walked to the door, slowly opened it, and closed it afterwards.
Without another word, Michael turned toward the door. His mind was already racing—could these women be connected to the Advents? Or were they something else entirely?
As Morrison opened the door, the four women stepped inside. Each carried an air of confidence and power, their presence filling the room. The first, a tall woman, was Elizabeth Rose Bloodflame (The Scarlet Queen). Beside her, on her left, stood a small woman named Gigi Murin (The Chaser). To Elizabeth's left was Cecilia Immergreen (The Ancient Automaton). Next to Cecilia, on her left, was Raora Panthera (The Artist with the God Eyes).
This team of four was called Justice. They were tasked with capturing the criminal group called the Advents. Justice had one mission: to bring justice to the world. They were a group of rowdy troublemakers operating on the fringes of a strict, uptight organization. Elizabeth Rose Bloodflame was Justice's manager, though she did not necessarily hold more power than the other three: Gigi Murin, Cecilia Immergreen, and Raora Panthera They were currently on a mission related to a recent prison break from "The Cell" and appeared to have loose connections with the escapees.
Elizabeth Rose Bloodflame stood 171 cm (5'7") tall, with red eyes and long red hair that had a blue tint underneath, topped with a long ahoge She dressed in a black and white outfit fastened with belts and accented with red pauldrons—further emphasizing her regal motif. The sleeves of her costume were removable. She wielded a black and red sword engraved with scales—a symbol of justice. One of Elizabeth's most recognizable features was the blue flame atop her chest. (According to Elizabeth, it could get hotter at random times but never burned her.)
Gigi Murin was 153 cm (5'0") tall. She had pink eyes and two-tone hair—light brown and dark brown—tied up in bunches. A tall ahoge protruded from her hoodie. She typically wore a bright orange hoodie decorated with fans, black cycling shorts, and one striped black and orange knee-high sock on her right leg. She had sharp teeth, and the "X" eye on her hoodie's left side blinked every time she did.
Cecilia Immergreen was 162 cm (5'4"). She was a clockwork automaton maiden, her doll-jointed body topped with a brass ribbon and a spinning clockwork key that turned when she was excited. She had green eyes and pale, white-green neck-length hair. Her usual attire was an elaborate gold-trimmed off-shoulder dress with a red neckerchief, off-white sleeves, and a green skirt decorated with musical notes and a clockwork motif She wore sandals, giving an ancient, timeless feel. She was sometimes seen wielding a white lance that transformed into a violin.
Raora Panthera was 158 cm (5'2"). She had long pink hair with a white streak, pink cat ears, and a long fuzzy tail to match. Her yellow eyes could glow bright aquamarine at will. She had tiny fangs and wore a white and black outfit with a pink off-shoulder coat that had a gap for her tail. Her outfit included white stockings, a round black hat, silver-tinted goggles on her head, and a single glove on her right hand. She also wore an enigmatic amulet with a blue gemstone. She could remove her goggles, hat, and coat if she wished.
As the four women and Michael exchanged glances, the atmosphere shifted, becoming very quiet. The girls blushed—especially Gigi Murin, who suddenly radiated "gremlin" energy, turning quite shy and blushing heavily. They found Michael very handsome and attractive but had been expecting an average-looking businessman. They were unprepared for a very attractive, muscular man who was a notorious bounty hunter and detective. Morrison hadn't informed them about his appearance.
Michael, on the other hand, leaned into his desk with his hands under his chin, maintaining a serious and cold expression as he studied the four women's looks and heights. He could see they were beautiful and attractive, but he didn't care about appearances. He had no time for women—at least, that's what he thought. However, he sensed strong mana emanating from them, indicating they were not ordinary. He could tell they had strength, though not enough to match his full power. He wondered what these four women were doing here.
Michael finally broke the silence, his voice calm, but his expression was stoic. "You mentioned you came looking for me, correct? State your business," he said, addressing the four girls.
Elizabeth stepped forward, her red eyes gleaming with determination as the faint blue flame on her chest flickered. "Michael Santos, it's an honour. We're here about the recent chaos at The Cell. We're part of Justice—an independent team working outside the usual channels. Our mission is to capture the criminal group called the Advents. Our one goal is to bring justice to the world."
Michael narrowed his eyes slightly, studying Elizabeth closely. Her unwavering gaze and the flickering blue flame on her chest suggested she was earnest, but he knew better than to trust appearances entirely. Still, he kept his tone neutral. "Justice, huh? That's a bold name for a team operating outside the law. What makes you think you can handle the Advents?"
Elizabeth's expression remained steady, but her eyes gleamed with resolve. "Because we have to. The chaos they've caused threatens to plunge the city into an endless night. We may be outsiders, but we're committed to ending their reign of terror. You've seen what they're capable of—powerful enough to destabilize entire sectors. That's why we need allies."
Michael raised an eyebrow, a suspicion still lingering in his eyes. He stood up from his desk, walked past it, and approached the girls. They glanced at him, following his movements with their eyes. He made his way to two black couches in front of his desk. After seating himself on the other couch, he arranged himself around a rustic walnut coffee table atop a dark red circular carpet—a setup designed for clients. He leaned back, arms resting on the sides of the couch. His stoic and calm expression remained unchanged as he glanced at the four women and spoke. "You've piqued my interest," he said calmly. "Now, come sit, and let's continue the discussion." He gestured toward the other couch, inviting them to sit.
The four women exchanged brief glances before gracefully making their way toward the couch Michael had offered. Elizabeth took the lead, lowering herself onto the seat with the poise of a queen, while Gigi, Cecilia, and Raora seated themselves next to her. Cecilia sat on Elizabeth's left, Raora on her right, and Gigi on Raora's left, crossing her legs—each carrying their distinct aura of power and purpose.
Michael folded his hands in front of him on the rustic coffee table, his eyes never leaving the group. "Let's start with what you know about the Advents. Tell me everything."
Elizabeth nodded. "One of our scouts reported that someone joined the Advents during their escape from the Azure Dominion prison and helped them fight their way out. His name is Samuel Reyes Santos," she said calmly, addressing Michael, who raised an eyebrow. "We also heard that you and he have a long history—that you've been tasked with capturing him multiple times and returning him to Azure Dominion. Is that correct?" she asked, looking at him seriously.
Michael returned her serious gaze and thought, "So, they don't know he's my twin brother." Like him, they have limited knowledge of my brother, and I have limited knowledge about the Advents. He then slowly nodded and said, "Yes, that's correct. Samuel and I do indeed have a long history."
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. "Ahh… so our sources were indeed accurate." She then added, "Good to hear. Since you have a long history with him, we want to recruit you to join us in capturing the Advents and Samuel Reyes Santos."
Michael regarded Elizabeth thoughtfully, the weight of her proposal settling heavily on his shoulders. The idea of joining forces with Justice was unexpected, but given the threat the Advents posed—and his complicated connection to his twin brother—it might be the opportunity he needed.
Gigi shifted slightly, her usual mischievous grin replaced by sincere determination. "Besides, we've got your back. You handle the fieldwork and combat; we cover reconnaissance, intelligence, and logistics. It's not just about force — it's about strategy." Cecilia and Raora nodded in agreement, their expressions resolute.
Michael stood up, surprising the girls as he moved away from the couches, then turned his back to them, arms folded. "As much as I appreciate your proposal, I have to decline," he said calmly, eyes closed and his expression stoic. "I work alone for a reason. And I don't want to shut down my business that easily," he added directly to Elizabeth and her friends, catching them off guard.
Elizabeth was about to respond, but Michael cut her off and continued, "But... we can collaborate instead. We can conduct joint operations to capture them and share intel. I'll share all the information I have on Samuel Reyes Santos—including his strengths, weaknesses, likes, and dislikes. In return, you four will do the same, providing me with all the intel on the Advents." He turned his head to look at them, his expression calm and stoic.
Michael's offer hung in the air, the room thick with tension and cautious hope. Elizabeth exchanged glances with the others before standing up from the couch, her determined red eyes locking onto Michael's. "Collaboration it is," she said firmly. "We look forward to working with you, Mr. Santos," she added with a slight bow.
The four women exchanged brief glances before gracefully making their way toward the couch Michael had offered. Elizabeth took the lead, lowering herself onto the seat with the poise of a queen, while Gigi, Cecilia, and Raora seated themselves next to her. Cecilia sat on Elizabeth's left, Raora on her right, and Gigi on Raora's left, crossing her legs—each carrying a distinct aura of power and purpose.
Michael folded his hands as he leaned toward the couch, his eyes never leaving the group. "Let's start with what you know about the Advents. Tell me everything."
Elizabeth nodded. "One of our scouts reported that someone joined the Advents during their escape from the Azure Dominion prison and helped them fight their way out. His name is Samuel Reyes Santos," she said calmly, addressing Michael, who raised an eyebrow. "We also heard that you and he have a long history—that you've been tasked with capturing him multiple times and returning him to Azure Dominion. Is that correct?" she asked, looking at him seriously.
Michael returned her gaze and thought. "So, they don't know he's my twin brother. Like him, they have limited knowledge about Samuel, and I have limited knowledge about the Advents." He slowly nodded and said, "Yes, that's correct. Samuel and I do indeed have a long history."
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. "Ahh… so our sources were indeed accurate." She then added, "Good to hear. Since you have a long history with him, we want to recruit you to join us in capturing the Advents and Samuel Reyes Santos."
Michael regarded Elizabeth thoughtfully, the weight of her proposal settling heavily on his shoulders. The idea of working with Justice was unexpected, but given the threat the Advents posed—and his complicated connection to his twin brother—it might be the opportunity he needed.
Gigi shifted slightly, her usual mischievous grin replaced by sincere determination. "Besides, we've got your back. You handle the fieldwork and combat; we cover reconnaissance, intelligence, and logistics. It's not just about force—it's about strategy." Cecilia and Raora nodded in agreement, their expressions resolute.
Michael stood up, surprising the girls as he moved away from the couches, then turned his back to them, arms folded. "As much as I appreciate your proposal, I have to decline," he said calmly, with his eyes closed and his expression stoic. "I work alone for a reason. And I don't want to shut down my business that easily," he added directly to Elizabeth and her friends, catching them off guard.
Elizabeth was about to respond, but Michael cut her off. "But… we can collaborate instead. We can conduct joint operations to capture them and share intel. I'll share all the information I have on Samuel Reyes Santos—including his strengths, weaknesses, likes, and dislikes. In return, you four will do the same and provide me with all the intel on the Advents." He turned his head to look at them, his expression calm and stoic.
Michael's offer hung in the air, the room thick with tension and cautious hope. Elizabeth exchanged glances with the others, then gracefully stood from her seat, her determined red eyes locking onto Michael's. "Collaboration it is," she said firmly. "We look forward to working with you, Mr. Santos," she added with a slight bow.
Michael nodded slowly, his expression still stoic. "Likewise," he replied directly.
Then Cecilia tapped her right cheek and asked, "Wait, so what time are we going to start collaborating? Are we starting now, or—" Before she could continue, Michael cut her off.
"We will start tomorrow. I'll need you four to prepare all the information you have on the Advents, and I will gather everything I have on Samuel. Once you're ready, come back here tomorrow at midnight, and we'll discuss the next steps in our operation." His tone was calm but commanding, leaving no room for argument.
Elizabeth nodded, her crimson eyes fixed confidently on him. "You'll have what you need by morning. We know the places they frequent, their patterns, and their recent activities. We'll send everything to you through secure channels."
Gigi grinned, leaning forward with a twinkle in her eyes. "And trust us, we're just as eager to take these guys down as you are. We've been chasing shadows from the outside for too long. With your expertise, we might finally turn the tide."
Cecilia, her brass ribbon glinting softly as she moved, nodded in agreement. "Knowledge is power. The more we share, the better our chances. This alliance will strengthen us all."
Raora's feline eyes narrowed thoughtfully, her tail flicking behind her. "We'll be ready to move as soon as you've analyzed the data. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve if things get messy."
Michael regarded each of them with a measured gaze. Their resilience and resolve impressed him—more than he had initially expected. "And one more thing. I will not tolerate tardiness. When I say 12, you all will be here at 12. Do you hear me?" he said, glaring at them coldly.
The room fell silent for a moment, each of the women absorbing Michael's commanding words. They felt a little intimidated by his cold gaze. Even though he's very good-looking, they noticed that he is scary and very serious.
Gigi smirked mischievously, her eyes gleaming with energy. "Don't worry, Mr. Santos. You'll have us on time—and probably early. That's just how we roll." She leaned back slightly, her confident stance defying any last doubts about their commitment.
Raora's tail flicked once more as she nodded, her feline gaze intense. "We'll make sure everything is prepared. Just say the word, and we'll move at your signal."
Cecilia's fingers brushed her brass ribbon thoughtfully, and then she looked at Elizabeth with a rare softness. "It's good to have allies, especially skilled ones like you. We've got your back, too."
Elizabeth's lips twitched into a faint smile. Her crimson eyes shimmered with resolve. "Let's bring them down together," she said quietly, her voice steady. "For the city, and for Samuel."
Michael turned back to face them, a faint hint of respect flickering in his eyes. "Good. Be prepared. And remember—trust but verify. We're operating in dangerous territory now." He said directly, his expression stoic. "Now, if you four have nothing to say, you're welcome to leave. I have more things to take care of," he added calmly, still turned away from them.
Then the four women rose from their seats. The air remained taut with the weight of the agreement they had just forged. Despite the underlying tension, there was a flicker of unity—fragile but promising.
Elizabeth stepped forward, folding her hands calmly. "We won't let you down, Mr. Santos. You have my word."
Michael inclined his head in acknowledgment but remained silent. As the women moved toward the exit, the faint blue flame on Elizabeth's chest flickered again, a sign of determination that resonated with Michael's own guarded resolve.
Once the door closed behind them, the quiet in his office deepened. Michael took a deep breath and lowered his arms. He walked toward the turntable on the left side of his desk and played a record. Sweet, calm, and relaxing music filled the air. He smiled warmly, his eyes closed. After a while, he turned around and walked back to his desk, seating himself in his plastic chair. Leaning back, his head rested against the back of the chair, his eyes closed, and he felt comfortable. He was ready for what would happen tomorrow, especially the collaboration he and Justice would undertake.
To be continued.