The room was bathed in an ominous red glow, the dim light casting twisted shadows across the bare concrete walls. Chains clinked softly as Mr. Brock hung restrained, his wrists bound tightly to iron rings bolted into the stone. A man loomed over him, gripping a worn wooden rod with white-knuckled intensity.
   Mr. Brock's face was battered and swollen, bruises blooming like dark flowers across his skin. Blow after blow had robbed him of strength, and his consciousness was slipping through his fingers.
   “Still trying to act tough, huh?” the captor sneered, yanking Mr. Brock’s chin upward to force his eyes open. “You’d better tell me where you hid the money before I kill you.”
   “Go ahead. Kill me if you don’t want to be the one who dies first,” Mr. Brock spat back defiantly, though the words cost him dearly.
   The man’s lip curled into a cruel smile. “Keep dreaming. Soon, your wife will be brought here.” He licked his lips slowly as if savoring the thought. “Imagine what we could do with her.”
   A bitter laugh escaped Mr. Brock’s cracked lips. “Let me tell you something—threatening me is your weakness.”
   That laugh sparked the man's fury. With a violent swing, the wooden rod shattered against Mr. Brock’s face, the sickening crack echoing in the cramped space.
   The door creaked open, and a slim figure stepped inside, dressed casually in a blue singlet and pants, his breathing heavy but controlled.
   “Where is she, Brad?” the captor growled, eyes flicking to the newcomer.
   Brad’s voice was grave. “Lone Wolf, she was'nt home. And Grandwalker got caught by a night watcher after being shot.”
   That announcement drew another bitter chuckle from Mr. Brock.
   “You find this funny?” Lone Wolf hissed, pressing his fingers firmly against Mr. Brock’s mouth to silence him. “I can do this—again and again—while you’re still here.” Releasing him, he stepped back.
   Mr. Brock’s eyes gleamed with fierce resilience despite the blood dripping from his cracked mouth. “You’re playing with a lion cloaked in sheep’s clothing. Soon, you’ll all be begging me for mercy.”
   Lone Wolf turned to Brad, his tone commanding. “Keep watch. When she returns, bring her here immediately.”
   “Got it,” Brad nodded, disappearing through the door just as a woman entered, carrying a tray with a single beer.
   Without a word, she set the beer before Lone Wolf and left, the soft click of the door failing to mask the tension in the air.
   Lone Wolf swallowed the drink hastily, his hands shaking barely perceptible as he tried to steady himself.
   A slow chuckle escaped Mr. Brock once more. Lone Wolf’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Have you heard of the 38th Street gang?”
   “Disbanded rivals,” Lone Wolf replied cautiously.
   “Well,” Mr. Brock said, eyes sharpening with a mischievous glint. “Before you go, here’s a secret: I was the one who broke them up to destroy the 18th Street.”
   Lone Wolf’s face contorted in confusion. “What did you put in my—” he didn’t finish. Overcome suddenly, he doubled over, vomiting violently.
   “Fast-acting,” Mr. Brock said coolly, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Could'nt even last five minutes.”
   Moments later, the same young woman reappeared. She strode decisively to Lone Wolf’s side, rifled through his pockets, and pulled out a key. With practiced ease, she set Mr. Brock free.
   “Nicely done, Rina,” he said quietly as they slipped out of the room, leaving Lone Wolf to his fate.
   “Have you seen Hackerman?” Mr. Brock asked once they were in the hallway.
   “End of this passage,” she replied.
   “What about Overlord?”
   “Don’t know. Probably in a meeting.”
   Mr. Brock glanced around, confusion flickering across his face. “What time is it?”
   Rina shook her head slightly. “In here, it seems like midnight... but it’s only 2 p.m.”
   He chuckled darkly. “You read my mind on that.”
   They walked forward until two bulky gang members appeared ahead, each wielding a crude axe. Mr. Brock stopped, muscles tensing like a coiled spring.
   “Did'nt think this would be easy,” he muttered.
   Rina’s voice was sharp. “Don’t tell me you want to fight them unarmed.”
   He cracked his knuckles, a wicked grin spreading across his bruised face. “Come on. I’ve done this plenty of times. This is just a walk in the park.”
   With deceptive speed, he darted forward in a zigzag pattern, narrowly evading their axe swings. “Predictable,” he muttered. Seizing one attacker’s wrist, he twisted violently to disarm him. Then, ducking low, he brought the axe crashing down onto the other’s neck with brutal efficiency.
   “Damn, still got that, huh?” Rina said, impressed.
   “Always,” Mr. Brock replied, knocking out the second man with a solid blow from the axe. “Let’s keep moving.”
   They reached the dank door at the end of the passage where Hackerman was held. Rina knocked, then slipped inside while Mr. Brock lingered just outside.
   Inside, Hackerman sat slumped in a chair, his wrists chained. 
   “Mmm Sir, Overlord needs you in his office,” Rina informed the one in charge quietly.
   “I thought he had a meeting this morning,”
   “He did — but just arrived now.”
   The man sighed as he rose. “Hope it’s not more work.”
   They left the room together, heading left down the hall. Without warning, Mr. Brock grabbed Hackerman from behind, slamming his head against the wall.
   “Should’ve gone easy on him, was kind to me.” Rina remarked, bending down to search the man’s pockets.
   Mr. Brock stepped inside Hackerman’s cell, surveying the damage. “Your so-called kind man did a number on my people.”
   Hackerman blinked in surprise. “Mr. Night Watcher! How did you... Wait, who’s she?”
   “She’s the lady who saved both our skins. Call her Rina.”
   “Nice to meet you,” Rina said simply.
   “Not so nice in my current state,” Hackerman groaned as Mr. Brock unlocked the cuffs. “Also, why the heck are you using your real name here?”
   “That’s not really my name,” Rina replied.
   “Well, what’s the plan? We need to get out before the alarm sounds.”
   “Rina, can you get him out of here?”
   “It’s easy to leave the building,” she said, “but the island’s only exit is heavily guarded.”
   Hackerman turned to Mr. Brock. “Why do you still have an ally inside Overlord’s chamber?”
   Mr. Brock smiled grimly. “I’ve been planning this a long time. This is the shortcut to reach the gang’s higher-ups.”
   “Still want to leave?”
   “Not alone. So what now?”
   Their conversation was cut short by a mocking clap. “Nice. Now we capture you again,” a voice sneered as a man stepped into the room.
   “Damn! I don’t want to go back in that cell.” Hackerman cried. 
   In a flash, Mr. Brock and Rina leapt through the window, Hackerman close behind. The building was a single story, surrounded by dense forest.
   Alarms blared, piercing the night and setting every gang member on edge.
   The trio sprinted into the trees, their breath ragged as they hunted for cover.
***
Overlord stormed toward the chained room in a surge of fury. When he opened the door, Lone Wolf lay sprawled lifeless on the floor.
   “Damn it,” Overlord muttered, pulling a remote from his pocket. Lifting his voice so all could hear, he announced, “Mr. Brock has escaped. I want everyone out there looking for him. Whoever captures him will be handsomely rewarded.”
--
   “Looks like someone put a bounty on his head,” Rina observed sharply.
   Mr. Brock came to a stop, determination blazing in his eyes. “This is where we execute the plan.”
   “Wait, what plan?” Hackerman asked, bewildered.
   “If anyone’s going to recapture us, they’ll seal off the exit. I want you two to buy me enough time to finish what I came here for.”
   Hackerman shook his head. “So you’re walking into a lion’s den alone. Bravo.”
   Rina smirked, already moving forward. “You think we’re not already inside one?”
   “Come on, we have to hide.”
   Mr. Brock glanced back. “Try to survive.”
   Hackerman looked at Rina. “I think he needs that phrase.”
   She shrugged. “Whatever. First, weapons.”
--
Mr. Brock charged back toward the building with fierce speed. Nearly at the entrance, he froze cold—Overlord stood there, wielding a chainsaw in one hand and an axe in the other.
   A dark smile crossed his lips. “Looking for me?”
---