Chapter 9 – A Brand New Life
The rain had stopped, but the city still smelled like it.
Roman stood over a cluttered desk inside the precinct, files spread out like a puzzle no one wanted to finish. Photos. Reports. Red strings pulled tight between names that had been haunting the city for years.
Emma's file sat at the center.
Across from him, Detective Kite leaned against the desk, arms crossed, eyes sharp. She was new to the city—but not to this kind of mess.
"Something doesn't add up," Kite said, tapping the folder. "Same girl. Kidnapped twice. Same criminal networks circling her. That's not coincidence."
Roman didn't answer right away.
"She was taken the first time," Kite continued, "and according to the old reports, they were working on her. Experiments. Tests. You remember Chapter One."
Roman clenched his jaw.
"I've seen cases like this before," Kite said. "They don't let victims go unless there's a reason."
She looked at him. "What if Emma isn't just a target?"
Roman's thoughts raced.
She's right.
Emma is a mutant.
And if the truth comes out… her life is over.
Out loud, he said calmly, "There's no proof of that."
Kite raised an eyebrow. "There never is at first."
She walked toward the board, pointing at another set of photos—old ones.
"The mafia's been in this city for decades," she said. "Iron grip. Fear. Control. But things changed when they lost their leader."
Roman nodded slowly.
"The Boss," he said. "The new one."
"They don't slip often," Kite said, her tone serious. "But when they do, that's when you cut the head off the snake."
Roman's eyes landed on a familiar name.
"Franklin," he said. "One of the Twelve Devils."
Kite smiled slightly. "Exactly. A mistake like that doesn't happen twice. This is our opening."
Roman exhaled. "If we stop the mafia… really stop them…"
Kite finished his sentence.
"Then we clean the city."
A beat.
"And after that?" Roman asked.
Kite turned back to him.
"After that," she said, "we go after Ace. The King Gambit."
The room went quiet.
Roman's fists tightened.
"You really think he's the problem?" he asked.
"I think masked heroes make things worse," Kite replied. "They decide who lives, who dies. No accountability. No law."
Roman's voice dropped. "Crime went down when Ace showed up."
"And deaths went up," Kite shot back. "Collateral damage. People caught in the middle."
They locked eyes.
"This city worships him," Kite said. "That doesn't make him right."
Roman looked away, staring at Emma's file again.
Ace saves people.
Ace also creates enemies.
And sometimes… people die because of me.
"We're supposed to protect people," Kite said. "Not become symbols."
Roman didn't respond.
Not because he disagreed.
But because he didn't know which side of himself was telling the truth anymore.
The hero.
Or the detective.
The door opened.
Don stepped in first, his expression serious. Behind him were Roman and Kite, the weight of the city following them into the room.
"Franklin just woke up," Don said. "He's conscious. Stable enough to talk."
Roman nodded once.
As they turned toward the hallway, Roman casually pulled out his phone, his back slightly turned from the others. His fingers moved fast—one short message sent.
Then the phone disappeared back into his pocket.
They walked.
The interrogation room was already prepared. Two other detectives stood near the wall, arms folded, watching closely as Franklin sat at the metal table.
His wrists were cuffed. His head hung low.
"I'm in," Kite said immediately.
"I'd like to be there too," Don added.
Roman looked at both of them, then nodded. "Alright. Let's do it."
They entered.
Franklin didn't look up.
Kite took the lead. "Franklin. You know why you're here."
No response.
Don leaned forward slightly. "You were involved in the kidnapping. Mafia activity. Attempted murder. We're past pretending this is small."
Still nothing.
Franklin's lips trembled.
"I failed," he muttered suddenly. "I failed the boss… no, no, no—please forgive me, boss…"
His breathing became erratic.
"That damn Bruno," he hissed. "And Ace. They're the problem. When I get my hands on them, I'll—"
"Franklin," Kite interrupted firmly. "Who's your boss?"
He didn't answer.
Don stepped in, voice calm but sharp. "Your boss, huh? Funny thing about that."
Franklin's jaw tightened.
"Your current leader has only been in charge for eight years," Don continued. "Same amount of time Ace has been active as a hero. But you? You've been with the mafia for fifteen years. One of the Twelve Devils for nine."
Don leaned closer.
"You worked under the old leader. So tell me—why the loyalty now? Sounds less like respect… and more like a snake switching sides."
Franklin slammed his hands on the table.
"Don't call him that!" he snapped. His head shot up, eyes burning. "Don't you dare call him 'boss' like that old man!"
The room tensed.
"The last leader was disgusting," Franklin spat. "Weak. A coward. Hearing him called a leader makes me sick."
His voice rose.
"You know his name. Say it."
A pause.
"George," Franklin growled. "George was nothing. The current boss—he is our leader. I love him. He loves me. And I won't let you mock him."
Silence followed.
Kite studied him carefully. "You won't betray him."
"No," Franklin said immediately. "Never."
Then he hesitated.
"…But I remember something."
Roman's eyes sharpened.
"I have information," Franklin said slowly. "About Lady Moon."
Kite and Don exchanged a look.
"I won't tell you anything about the boss," Franklin continued. "But her? That's different."
As he spoke, Roman quietly pulled out his phone again beneath the table. One tap. A message sent.
Franklin clenched his teeth.
"She betrayed me," he said bitterly. "She turned on me to save the girl. Worked with Bruno and Ace. Beat me."
His voice cracked with anger.
"But…" he paused. "…I remember now."
Everyone leaned in.
"She was working with me," Franklin said. "Against Bruno and Ace. We just lost. I was dropped. And she left."
Kite frowned. "That doesn't make sense."
"She wasn't mafia," Franklin added quickly. "Just hired muscle. Doing a job."
Confusion spread across the room.
Cut to—
A sleek car gliding through the city streets.
Inside sat Dr. Morning-Star and Mr. Morning-Star, both dressed sharply. Dr. Morning-Star gripped her head, wincing.
"Ugh… that never feels good," she muttered, swallowing a pill.
Mr. Morning-Star chuckled. "Still a brilliant plan."
She sighed. "Replacing real memories with false ones using telekinesis… it's effective. Just uncomfortable."
He smiled. "Roman thought ahead. If Franklin believes Lady Moon worked with him, the mafia won't hunt her."
Dr. Morning-Star leaned back. "Sometimes I wish we could swap powers."
They laughed as the car disappeared into the night.
Roman's phone buzzed.
👍
Back in the station, officers entered and pulled Franklin from his chair, escorting him out. He didn't resist.
The room emptied.
As Roman and Kite stepped into the hallway, another officer approached.
"You're both needed at Apollo IQ," they said. "Emergency security detail. Tech presentation."
Roman nodded. "We'll go."
He glanced at Kite. "Apollo might know something about Emma. Remember—science was involved. If anyone has answers…"
Kite's eyes widened slightly.
"You're right," she said. "Let's move."
They walked off, the city quietly shifting again.
The lights of Apollo IQ glowed like a second skyline.
Glass, steel, and white light rose into the night, clean and perfect—too perfect. Luxury cars lined the entrance. Laughter spilled out through open doors. Everything about the place screamed power.
Dr. Morning-Star stepped out of the car first, smoothing her dress. She looped her arm around her husband's without thinking, leaning into him as they walked toward the entrance.
"You're frowning already," she teased. "We just got here."
Mr. Morning-Star sighed. "I still don't understand why I'm here."
She smiled knowingly. "Because you were invited."
"That doesn't explain why," he muttered.
She tilted her head toward him. "You're one of the best scientists in the city. Maybe the best. Even Apollo knows that."
He huffed. "Lucky me."
Inside, the atmosphere shifted instantly. Music hummed softly. Well-dressed guests clustered together with drinks in hand, talking business, science, money. Every smile felt practiced.
Mr. Morning-Star looked uncomfortable immediately.
"Let's grab food," Dr. Morning-Star said, tugging him gently. "If we're trapped here, we might as well eat."
They picked up small plates and drinks, finding a quieter corner.
As they ate, her expression softened.
"Emma's grandparents banned her from the school," she said quietly.
He paused mid-bite.
"…I figured," he said. "They're scared."
"She is too," Dr. Morning-Star replied. "They just don't see that."
He nodded slowly. "This could be bad for her development. Being isolated like that."
She sighed. "Aya worries me too. Losing Emma like that won't be easy on her."
Before he could respond, the energy in the room shifted.
Conversations hushed.
Apollo Weston had arrived.
He moved through the crowd like he owned the air—wearing a flawless white suit, light blue shirt beneath it. Expensive. Intentional. Untouchable.
He smiled as he greeted guests, shaking hands, laughing easily.
Mr. Morning-Star immediately turned his face away.
He angled his body, avoiding eye contact completely.
Dr. Morning-Star noticed—and laughed under her breath.
"You're acting ridiculous," she whispered. "You look like a kid hiding from a teacher."
"There's history," he muttered. "And I don't care to relive it."
Apollo stepped onto a raised platform, clapping once to gather attention.
"Thank you all for coming," he said smoothly. "Tonight, I want to share the future."
Holographic displays lit up around him—biometric interfaces, scanning visuals, predictive systems.
Dr. Morning-Star watched carefully.
Mr. Morning-Star stayed tense.
Across the city, a car sped toward Apollo IQ.
Roman drove.
Kite sat beside him, arms crossed, staring out the window.
"So," Roman said casually, breaking the silence. "Who is Kite?"
She turned slowly. "What kind of question is that?"
He smiled. "A normal one. You show up out of nowhere, take on the mafia like it's routine, and never talk about yourself."
Her eyes narrowed. "And why do you care?"
Roman shrugged. "A friend can't ask questions?"
She scoffed. "Who said we're friends?"
Roman glanced at her. "Then why do you always come to me when something goes wrong?"
She didn't answer.
He continued, softer now. "I'm just trying to get to know you."
Then he added lightly, "You're my type."
Her head snapped toward him.
"…What?"
"You little shit," she snapped. "Say that again when we're not in a moving car. You're lucky I can't punch you right now."
Roman laughed. "Hurt me? Never. Maybe with your looks."
Her face flushed instantly.
"What is your problem?" she demanded. "You think I'll just—what—sleep with you like the others at work?"
He raised his hands slightly. "Hey. That's not what I meant."
She waited.
"I wasn't trying to cross a line," Roman said honestly. "Just… trying to make you feel better about yourself."
Her anger faded—replaced by surprise.
She went quiet.
Kite glanced at her reflection in the side mirror, adjusting her jacket slightly, then looked away again. A faint red crept across her cheeks.
She didn't respond.
The car slowed.
Apollo IQ rose in front of them, glowing against the night.
Roman parked.
Kite took a breath, composed herself, and opened the door.
"Next time," she muttered, "choose your words better."
Roman smiled to himself.
The applause faded slowly as Apollo finished his presentation.
Guests swarmed him almost immediately—executives, investors, scientists—each one eager to shake his hand, praise his brilliance, and bask in his attention.
Apollo accepted it all effortlessly.
Smiling. Nodding. Agreeing.
Of course you're right.
Of course this will change everything.
He thrived in it.
Then—he saw him.
Apollo's smile sharpened.
He excused himself smoothly, stepping away from the crowd and walking directly toward Mr. Morning-Star.
"Well, well," Apollo said brightly. "Mr. Morning-Star. It's been a long time."
He extended his hand.
Dr. Morning-Star forced a polite, awkward smile. "Likewise, Mr. Weston."
She reached for his hand—
But Apollo caught it gently… then lifted it and pressed his lips against her knuckles.
Mr. Morning-Star stiffened instantly.
Dr. Morning-Star pulled her hand back.
"I'm sorry," she said firmly. "That's not appropriate. The most I can offer is an awkward hug."
Apollo chuckled. "No offense taken."
They hugged briefly—formal, empty.
Then Apollo's gaze slid past her.
Straight to Mr. Morning-Star.
The air changed.
Apollo stepped forward. Mr. Morning-Star rose to meet him.
Their handshake was firm. Too firm.
A silent challenge.
"So," Apollo said, holding the grip a moment longer than necessary, "how's your school doing? Still chasing ideals?"
Mr. Morning-Star didn't flinch. "It's doing very well. I'm shaping the future. Giving mutants something the world refuses to—dignity."
Apollo smiled thinly. "Fixing the world, huh?"
"Yes," Mr. Morning-Star replied calmly. "That was the goal."
Apollo leaned in slightly. "Funny. That used to be my dream."
The smile didn't leave his face.
"I built a company," Apollo continued. "Created technology people use every day. Changed lives. Made the world better."
Mr. Morning-Star stepped closer.
"That dream," he said quietly, "was mine too. Once."
Apollo's eyes darkened.
"I wanted to fix the world with technology," Mr. Morning-Star continued. "Build something meaningful. But I also wanted a life. A family."
He glanced at his wife.
"And I remember she was part of your dream."
The silence between them turned razor-thin.
"I took that dream from you," Mr. Morning-Star said. "And I don't regret it."
Apollo's jaw tightened.
Dr. Morning-Star stepped between them slightly.
"Apollo," she said calmly, "you need to let go of the past. You have everything. Power. Success. A future."
She met his eyes.
"It's time to move on. We did."
Mr. Morning-Star placed a hand on her back.
"It's time to go," he said softly.
Apollo didn't stop smiling—but something cold lived behind it now.
"Remember this," Apollo said quietly. "The hate I have for you will never die."
Mr. Morning-Star turned away.
"Same goes for you," he replied without looking back.
They walked off together—hand in hand.
Apollo remained where he stood, watching them disappear into the crowd.
His smile finally faded.
Roman and Kite moved through the crowd together, passing well-dressed guests and quiet conversations. Their pace was calm, but Roman's eyes never stopped scanning the room.
Small talk filled the space between them—surface-level, professional.
Then Roman noticed them.
Mr. and Dr. Morning-Star walked past.
Roman stopped.
"Detective Kite," he said casually, "why don't you go speak with Apollo? See if you can get anything useful out of him."
Kite raised an eyebrow. "And you?"
"I'll talk to the Morning-Stars," Roman replied. "I want a better understanding of Emma. What she might be."
Kite studied his face for a second, then nodded.
"Fine."
She walked off toward Apollo.
Roman turned back to the Morning-Stars—his expression shifting instantly, warmer now that he didn't need to hide behind formality.
"Rough night?" Roman asked.
Mr. Morning-Star sighed. "More like an old irritation. I ran into Apollo."
"That explains the look," Roman said.
Dr. Morning-Star crossed her arms. "How did it go with Franklin?"
Roman nodded. "Perfectly. Everything fell into place."
He lowered his voice.
"Mandy was questioned for seven hours. The detectives believed Lady Moon was a mafia affiliate. Franklin's altered testimony reinforced that idea—but placed her as a disposable contractor, not a member."
Mr. Morning-Star understood immediately.
"Which means—"
"Lower charges," Roman said. "Easier bail. And most importantly, the mafia won't suspect her of being a rat."
Dr. Morning-Star smiled faintly. "Clean. Efficient."
"The plan worked," Roman continued. "Now all that's left is for you to pick her up. Ace already paid her bail."
Mr. Morning-Star nodded. "We'll handle it."
Roman stepped away, scanning the room again.
He found Kite.
She was standing with Apollo now.
Roman joined them smoothly, sliding into the conversation.
Apollo smiled. "Detectives. I've already said everything I know."
"Which is?" Kite pressed.
Apollo shrugged. "That the technology involved could either awaken latent mutations… or kill the subject entirely."
Roman watched his face carefully.
"And Emma?" Roman asked.
Apollo tilted his head. "She's a mutant. That much is obvious. But her ability?"
He smiled thinly.
"That's the kind of power people steal for."
Nothing concrete.
But enough to confirm suspicions.
Roman excused them shortly after.
Inside the car, Kite exhaled sharply.
"So," she said, starting the engine, "we're agreed. Emma's a mutant."
"Yes," Roman replied.
"She should stay at the Morning-Star School," Kite continued. "It's safer. She can learn control."
Roman nodded. "That's the plan."
Kite glanced at him. "Do the Morning-Stars know about her yet?"
Roman didn't hesitate.
"No."
A lie—clean, intentional.
They drove in silence.
Then Kite's phone rang.
She put it on speaker.
Don's voice came through, laughing.
"Kite—you won't believe this."
"Believe what?" Kite asked.
"Someone just bailed out Lady Moon."
Kite's grip tightened on the wheel.
Roman feigned surprise. "Who would do that?"
Don laughed harder. "The station got a letter. Fifty thousand. Signed by Ace."
Kite slammed her hand against the dashboard and cut the call.
Silence filled the car.
Roman stared out the window, hiding his smile.
She's going to hate this, he thought.
And I hate that… but I'd do it again.
Out loud, he said, "Why would Ace do that?"
Kite didn't answer.
Mandy walked out of the station carrying her clothes in a black bag.
Free.
Dr. and Mr. Morning-Star waited by the car.
She climbed in, smiling for the first time without fear.
"Roman—" she caught herself, laughing softly. "Ace… he really thought this through."
Mr. Morning-Star nodded. "He's good at that."
Mandy looked at them, hopeful. "How's Mitchell?"
Dr. Morning-Star smiled. "Having the time of his life."
Mandy leaned back, staring out the window as the city passed by.
No masks.
No running.
No shadows.
Just a mother on her way home.
A brand new life.
End of Chapter 9