Bronx and Sabo stood silently on either side of the broken doorway. When they saw Emery and Griff approach, they straightened.
Without a word, the two giants pulled the door open together.
Emery walked in first, head high. Griff followed, hands in his pockets, grin lazy but eyes sharp. Bronx and Sabo slipped in right after, closing the door behind them and taking their positions flanking the entry like statues.
Inside, the old warehouse was packed. Cracked beams held up the leaning roof, and oil lamps burned low in the corners. The twelve original misfits stood spread out in a semi-circle, each with a small crowd behind them twenty kids each, give or take, gathered from every filth-covered alley and sun-starved corner of the slums.
Eyes turned when Emery entered. Silence fell.
He walked through it like smoke, Griff at his side, the Boss and his right hand returning to their seat of power.
When Emery reached the center of the room, he didn't shout. He didn't puff up his chest. He just raised a hand. That was enough.
"All of you were brought here for a reason," he said, voice calm but cutting. "Some of you have strength. Some have magic. Some of you have nothing but the guts to chase something more."
He paused, scanning the room.
"Today's not a fight. Not yet. Today's a door. You prove yourself, you step through. Or you walk back into the mud."
He let it hang.
Then: "You stand in the presence of the Vanta Gang."
That name rang like a flare. The misfits the originals stood straighter. They had bled for that name.
"Behind me are my brothers Griff. Bronx. Sabo. The twelve who helped carve this out of rot. But today, we open the circle."
His voice lifted.
"Because we're not rebuilding what we lost we're claiming what we deserve."
A ripple moved through the room. It wasn't just heat it was belief.
Emery pulled a folded scrap of parchment from his coat. "Now, let's see what gold's been pulled from the gutter."
He began reading the names of those who stood out. Most were met with cautious nods, a few claps. But then his eyes locked on a set of three names near the bottom.
He froze.
Griff stepped closer. "What is it?"
Emery's lips curled into a grin that split his face. "No. Fucking. Way."
He looked up. "Vice. Sark. Dragu. Get up here."
Three figures moved from the crowd.
Vice swaggered like he owned the place skinny, sharp-faced, with wild eyes and a walk that oozed ego. "Miss me?" he asked.
Sark lumbered behind him, thick arms crossed, belly bouncing slightly with each step. "Took long enough," he grunted.
Dragu came last tall and broad, still wearing that calm, kind expression that made him look like the nicest man who ever broke your jaw.
Emery stepped forward. He didn't wait.
He have Dragu the hardest and most heart felt handshake he has ever given.
Then Vice.
Then even Sark, who groaned, "Alright, alright, don't get sappy."
Griff was grinning like a lunatic. "How the hell are you three here?"
Vice cracked his knuckles. "Same way as you, I guess. Woke up in the gutter and started throwing punches."
"You found us faster than I thought," Emery said. "I figured we'd be scouring cities for months."
Dragu smiled. "Guess fate likes us."
Around them, the room shifted. Everyone could feel it something was happening. The core was returning.
Emery turned back to the crowd. "Alright. Let's see the rest."
More names followed.
Gear, the dwarf girl, leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, soot smudged on her cheeks. When Emery read her name, she looked up and called across the room, "You always have a thing for speeches, or is that new?"
A few kids laughed.
Emery smirked. "You got a problem with speeches?"
"Not if they come with lunch," she replied, her voice warm, teasing. She winked, and Emery shook his head with a smile.
Talia, the dark elf girl, stood gracefully at attention. Her silver eyes didn't blink. Her hands remained folded. She didn't speak just watched.
And in the shadows, Veil lingered like a specter, half-hidden, silent and still. His eyes caught Emery's, and in that single locked moment, both of them knew this boy wasn't ordinary.
Emery nodded once. "We'll see what you can do."
The room shifted again. This wasn't a simple gang anymore. This was an army in the making.
He raised his hand once more. "Tomorrow. We test. We see who's cut from rust, and who's forged in fire."
He let the silence fill with weight.
Then he turned to Griff, Dragu, Vice, and Sark.
"It starts again."