((This Sequel is Darker than its Prequel..))
—-THE OPENING THEME PLAYS—
The evening sky hung heavy with the promise of rain as Ken walked down the familiar streets of Tremorton. His footsteps echoed against the pavement, a solitary rhythm that matched the quiet solitude he often sought.
Dressed in black attire with streaks of dark purple, Ken exuded a sense of mystery and strength. His eyes, a piercing shade of blue, surveyed his surroundings with a detached curiosity.
As he approached his house, Ken noticed the soft glow of light filtering through the curtains. Pushing open the front door, he entered the cozy living room where his mother, Tiff, was engrossed in a book.
"Hey, Mom," Ken greeted, his voice low but respectful.
Tiff looked up, a warm smile lighting up her face. "Welcome home, Ken. How was your day?"
Ken shrugged nonchalantly. "Same old, same old."
Tiff closed her book and patted the empty space beside her on the couch. "Come, sit for a moment. I want to talk to you."
Curious, Ken complied, settling down beside his mother. Tiff regarded him with a mix of affection and concern.
"Ken, I know we don't talk about your father much," Tiff began gently, "but I think it's time you learned more about him."
Ken's brows furrowed slightly, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Tiff took a deep breath, preparing to share a part of their family history. "Your father, Liam, was a remarkable person. He was a hero, fighting alongside Jenny to protect this city and its people."
Ken's eyes widened slightly, absorbing this new information. "I've heard some stories, but I never really knew..."
Tiff nodded understandingly. "I kept a lot from you to protect you, but I think you're ready to know more about your father's legacy."
As Tiff recounted tales of Liam's bravery, Ken listened intently, a newfound sense of connection and understanding blossoming within him. He realized that beneath his loner facade, there was a legacy waiting to be discovered—a legacy that belonged to him as much as it did to his father.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the quiet suburban street, we zoom in on a modest house nestled among the others. Inside, the atmosphere is calm yet tinged with an unspoken sadness.
In the living room, Tiff, a familiar face from past adventures, sits on the couch, flipping through an old photo album. Her expression is a mix of nostalgia and longing as she gazes at pictures of her late husband, Liam. The sound of footsteps draws her attention, and she looks up to see her son, Ken, entering the room.
Ken is a striking figure, dressed in black from head to toe. His hair, dyed a deep shade of ebony, falls over his forehead, partially obscuring his piercing gaze. He moves with a quiet confidence, a demeanor that speaks of strength and resilience.
Tiff smiles warmly at Ken. "Hey, Ken. How was your day?"
Ken shrugs, his tone indifferent. "Same old, same old. Nothing much happening."
Tiff nods, understandingly. "Well, dinner will be ready soon. Why don't you go freshen up?"
Ken nods in response and heads upstairs to his room. The walls of his room are adorned with posters of gothic bands and dark artwork. The atmosphere is serene yet tinged with a hint of melancholy.
Sitting at his desk, Ken gazes out the window at the darkening sky. His mind drifts to memories of his father, Liam, a hero whose legacy looms large over their lives. Ken's expression softens for a moment, a rare glimpse of vulnerability beneath his tough exterior.
