Xavier stepped out of the storeroom, still fixing the cuffs of his shirt, and walked out of the restaurant like nothing happened. The morning sun hit the glass panels, and the city below looked alive again — horns, drones, chatter, everything back to pretending the night hadn't just burned half of it down.
He took the elevator to the ground floor, helmet in hand, and stepped out of the building. His bike was right where he left it, sleek and dark, reflecting the city lights off its frame. He slipped the helmet on, started the engine, and the low hum filled the air.
For a few seconds, he just sat there, letting the engine idle while he checked the holo screen projected from his wrist. Dozens of messages, calls, and notifications flooded the feed — news outlets, unknown numbers, encrypted pings. Everyone was either panicking or digging.
Xavier scrolled past them all until he found one from Viola: "Done disposing the body parts at your given locations. What now?"
