The ruined pier compound at the edge of Coney Isnd looked half-dead—rusted shipping containers slouched like broken teeth, and the warehouse roofs sagged as though tired of holding themselves together. Moonlight carved pale stripes across the concrete. Perfect stage lighting for a massacre.

  Under Madame Rapier’s silent hand gesture, the Golem’s temporary “goon squad” advanced into the compound.

  Constrictor slithered in first—broad shoulders rolling under a leather jacket, his Adamantium coils twitching like eager serpents. Shocker followed, bulky vibro-gauntlets humming low, each breath rattling the mask he wore. Jack O’Lantern drifted above them, fire flickering inside his spectral helmet, casting an infernal glow across the pier.

  None of them spoke.

  They didn’t need to. Rapier’s presence stole sound the way a bck hole stole light. Her steps were soft, controlled. Her mask—a pure Argentine steel half-face—reflected no emotion.

  She blended into the shadows outside and found an entry point to enter without being seen. From her vantage point, she observed the exchange, waiting for her chance to strike.

  Inside the warehouse, a figure stood waiting. The mercenaries walked until they were a fair distance from the waiting figures before stopping.

  Parker Robbins—cloak draped over his shoulders, hood up, face shadowed. He pretended to flinch at the sight of them.

  “Where’s your boss?” he asked, voice cracking just enough to seem believable. “Where’s the Golem? I thought this was his show.”

  Constrictor snorted. “You don’t get to ask questions. You got the diamonds?”

  Parker smiled internally, ‘Good. They’re already pying their roles.’

  “Of course,” he said, lifting his hands slowly. “I brought what he wanted. Did you bring the money?”

  From his coat, he produced a velvet pouch and tossed it onto the floor. The blood diamonds spilled out—raw, uncut, glittering like frozen sparks.

  Jack O’Lantern ughed, fme curling higher, “Pretty little rocks. Shame you stole ’em and couldn’t fence ’em.”

  Shocker stepped forward and lobbed a duffel bag. Cash bricks thudded onto the concrete.

  A quiet grunt sounded from somewhere behind Parker—one of his st remaining men confirming the bills were real and that nothing else was in the bag.

  Parker gave a slow nod.

  He walked over, picked up the pouch and diamonds, and then tossed them toward the group, “Good,” he said. “Then we’re—”

  They caught the pouch easily.

  As Parker bent to pick up the duffel bag.

  It happened then—a whisper of steel. A shift in the air and a shadow detaching itself from the rafters.

  Madame Rapier fell like a bde.

  Her twin stilettos shot straight for Parker’s spine.

  Parker smirked, “Too slow.”

  He vanished as the bde missed the target.

  He had not teleported— rather, he turned invisible, his cloak bending light around him. Rapier’s bdes sank into nothing but concrete.

  She rolled lightly, coming up in a low stance, searching the air for movement.

  Parker reappeared ten feet above the ground, air-walking with the cloak’s second gift. He hovered upside-down, grinning from the rafters.

  “I really thought the Golem sent you here to negotiate. Such a shame,” he taunted. “He sent you all to your death.”

  Rapier’s mask glinted.

  Jack O’Lantern inhaled sharply, then roared fme into the roof, filling the warehouse with hellfire.

  The pier war erupted in an instant.

  Constrictor struck first.

  His coils snapped upward, slicing the air where Parker floated. Metal whistled hungrily.

  Parker jerked sideways, nearly losing bance mid-air as the cloak flickered. Still not fully stable. He could only curse in his head, ‘dammit…’

  Shocker braced himself and unleashed a vibro-bst.

  The shockwave tore through the rafters, shaking the entire warehouse, bsting aside the grunts. Rusted bolts rained down like metallic hail.

  Jack O’Lantern added a sweep of hellfire, forcing Parker higher. Fire twisted around the rafters like living serpents.

  Parker nded on a beam and clung like a cat. “You idiots are going to bring the whole pce down!”

  Shocker bsted again. “Good!”

  Parker felt something in him crack.

  Not physically—emotionally.

  A pulse of demonic energy surged down his arms, unbidden.

  Purple electricity snapped from his palms, arcing across the warehouse. Constrictor dodged, swearing violently as demon-fire seared the floor where he had stood.

  Parker hadn’t meant to do that. He didn’t even know he could. But damn, did it feel good.

  Jack O’Lantern cackled, swooping across the ceiling. “Come on, Hood! Show us that demon power I hear about! We wanna see fireworks!”

  “Shut up!” Parker barked—then nearly lost grip as the beam trembled under the force of another Shocker bst. ‘Damn, those idiot cops are te. How can you be te to arrest someone? Fucking idiots!’

  He needed an exit soon.

  More than anything, he needed witnesses.

  His fall guy would be one of the people here, but those idiots were te.

  Luckily, he already knew who would make the best fall guy.

  Through the cracked warehouse windows, red-and-blue lights flickered.

  Sirens screamed in the distance.

  ‘Thank god they’re finally here.’

  The st phase of his pn was beginning.

  Across the pier, perched on a rooftop that overlooked the warehouse, Delih watched through a thermal scope as she positioned her sniper rifle.

  The heat signatures inside danced chaotically—one invisible figure moving unpredictably, three mercenaries scattering, and Rapier circling silently like a lethal moon. Then her vision blurred as the fming pumpkin filled the room with fire.

  She lowered the rifle and tapped her comm.

  “Masque, status?”

  Madame Masque’s voice crackled softly in Delih’s ear—smooth, cool, and satisfied.

  “I’m inside the Hood’s sanctum now,” she whispered. “And I found them.”

  “The books?”

  “Yes. His mystical texts. I never understood why he wasted so much money collecting these. I understand even less why Moreau wants them. And… as for the hood, he’s got that on his person. It’ll be hard to get that out of here without killing him.”

  Delih allowed a rare smile. “Well, for now, Luc will be happy enough. He said he absolutely wanted the books, and as for the hood, we can try, but if it’s too hard, forget it. For now, focus on getting those books out of the police blockade, and I’ll see if I can handle getting the hood.”

  Masque scoffed lightly. “Sure thing, boss.”

  “From what I see, the weakest point of the blockade is in the southeast behind the building. The Hood’s men came with a car. If you can hotwire it, you’ll have an easier time escaping. Can you?”

  “I can. Don’t worry, boss, getting out is my job. As for you, will you be okay? Once I break out, they’ll strengthen the blockade even more. I don’t know why Moreau sent us here.”

  A pause.

  “Do you trust him?” Masque asked.

  “No.” Delih’s eyes stayed fixed on the warehouse. “But I trust that he keeps his bargains. As you said before, getting out is my job, so don’t worry and do yours.”

  Masque inhaled sharply, then added, “Got it. I guess he did make a point when he said that if we want to build our own organization, we do need muscle. And those mercenaries inside are worth recruiting.”

  Delih smirked. “Although I wonder… if they’ll work me.”

  “Money will take care of that. They’re hired goons, loyalty isn’t up there on the list so long as enough money is promised.”

  Masque zipped her bag. “Right, I’ve got all the books. Meet me at the rendezvous once your part is done.”

  “Copy.”

  Delih clicked the comm off, just as a thunderous boom erupted below and a wave of heat bsted through the broken window frames.

  Jack O’Lantern’s doing.

  She lifted the scope, but sadly, the heat had intensified further, obscuring her vision. Luckily, the fme brightened the build, and she could still see the Hood dodging fireballs before he descended to nd.

  Parker was now on the floor, half-visible, half-wreathed in demonic static. The mercenaries circled him like predators.

  He wasn’t winning, but he wasn’t losing, either.

  ‘He could escape easily, but he’s not. He was stalling,’ Delih narrowed her eyes, ‘For what? Oh, that’s what he wanted.’

  Outside the compound, Detective Yuri Watanabe crouched behind a stack of crates, ESU officers fnking her.

  She scanned the perimeter with sharp, calcuting eyes.

  “We’ve got sonic bsts coming from the central warehouse. We believe them to be coming from the suspect who goes by the name Shocker,” a sergeant reported.

  “And is that—fire?” another murmured.

  “Yes, the one creating has been identified as Jack O’Lantern,” Yuri said grimly. “Means I was right to call for more units. I just hope it’ll be enough.”

  She signaled for silence.

  “Positions. On my mark—breach and storm.”

  The team moved.

  Guns raised.

  Shields braced.

  The warehouse windows glowed orange with reflected fme.

  Yuri exhaled slowly.

  Something here felt wrong.

  Like someone had drawn chalk outlines around the bodies before they fell.

  She didn’t believe in cirvoyance.

  But she trusted her instincts.

  “Stay sharp,” she whispered.

  Then—

  From inside the warehouse, Parker saw the police lights intensifying.

  He grinned invisibly.

  “Perfect,” he murmured.

  He let the cloak flicker, revealing just enough of himself to draw attention.

  “Hey, idiots!” he shouted at the mercenaries. “Looks like we have company.”

  Constrictor turned sharply, “The cops?!”

  Jack O’Lantern spun mid-air, fme swarming. “You set us up!”

  Parker ughed. “Now why would I do that?”

  Shocker cursed and bsted open a wall panel, trying to create an escape route—but Parker hit him with a surge of demonic electricity, sending the mercenary sprawling.

  “Oops,” Parker said sweetly. “My bad.”

  Madame Rapier unched a bde in his direction, but he vanished again.

  The mercenaries were trapped.

  The cops were closing in.

  And the Hood’s “death” or “capture” was about to be pinned on someone else entirely.

  As Parker hovered in the rafters, invisible and savoring the chaos, he whispered, “Cue the curtain drop.”

  Yuri Watanabe shouted, “ESU—GO!”

  The doors exploded inward, “Freeze, get your hands up!”

  The mercenaries whirled, weapons raised.

  The pier became a war zone.

  And Parker slipped out through the skylight, unseen, unheard—free, leaving behind an identical hood on the ground.