Two days had passed since Banshee let Scarlet go, and the tower remained tense. No one had heard from her since she left, and Banshee couldn't shake the sinking feeling that she had made a terrible mistake. Her mind raced with doubts, wondering if Scarlet had used the opportunity to escape or worse—return to Von Blood's side.
By the afternoon of the second day, the heroes gathered around the planning table, their usual strategy session focused on how to counter Von Blood's latest moves. Vanguard stood at the head, his demeanor more focused than ever. There was an air of anticipation, but nothing concrete to work with. Von Blood's plans were still shrouded in mystery, and without a clear lead, the heroes could only speculate on his next move.
Suddenly, the doors to the tower swung open with a heavy thud.
Everyone turned, hands instinctively reaching for their weapons or preparing for an attack.
Standing in the entrance was Light-Speed—or at least what remained of him. His body was bruised and battered, his suit torn in several places, blood dripping from multiple wounds. He staggered forward, barely able to stay on his feet.
"Light-Speed!" Banshee gasped, rushing toward him.
But before she could reach him, Vanguard was faster. In a single swift motion, he grabbed Light-Speed by the neck, lifting him off the ground with one hand. His eyes burned with suspicion and rage.
"You think you can just waltz back in here like nothing happened?" Vanguard growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Where have you been? What did you really plan with Von Blood?"
Banshee froze, watching in horror as Vanguard's fist clenched, preparing for a punch that could crush bones. Light-Speed, barely able to breathe, tried to speak but only managed a strained, gasping sound. His body went limp in Vanguard's grip, but before the punch could land, something caught Banshee's eye.
A handful of crumpled photos slipped from Light-Speed's hand and fluttered to the ground, spreading across the floor.
"Wait!" Banshee shouted, rushing forward and grabbing Vanguard's arm. "Look!"
Vanguard hesitated, glancing down at the scattered photos. His grip on Light-Speed loosened slightly, and Banshee quickly bent down to pick them up. As she spread the pictures out on the table, the room fell silent. The images showed various locations across the city, warehouses, hidden facilities, and underground tunnels, all marked with Von Blood's signature. Several of his key operatives were visible in the photos, transporting crates filled with what appeared to be advanced technology and weapons.
Banshee's heart raced. These weren't just random shots—these were detailed surveillance photos of Von Blood's operations.
As the room absorbed the evidence, a weak, hoarse voice broke the silence. "Told... you," Light-Speed whispered, struggling to catch his breath.
Vanguard looked down at Light-Speed, his eyes narrowing. The form of the speedy hero began to shimmer and shift, the illusion melting away to reveal Scarlet Destiny's true self. Her fiery red hair, now matted with blood and dirt, fell over her face as she hung limply in Vanguard's grasp. Her breathing was shallow, and her body trembled from the pain of her injuries.
Banshee stepped forward, putting a hand on Vanguard's arm. "Let her go, Vanguard. She's done what I asked."
For a moment, Vanguard seemed torn between anger and uncertainty. His hand twitched, but eventually, he released Scarlet, letting her collapse onto the ground. She gasped for air, clutching her side, clearly in agony.
"Why..." Vanguard began, still glaring at her. "Why would you help us?"
Scarlet, barely able to lift her head, looked up at him through bloodshot eyes. "I... I wanted to prove... I'm not the same person anymore."
The room was heavy with tension, as all eyes were fixed on the crumpled form of Scarlet Destiny.
She had risked everything to return, nearly dying to bring back the information they so desperately needed. But trust was still a fragile thing, and even now, some of the heroes looked at her with doubt in their eyes.
Banshee knelt beside Scarlet, gently helping her sit up. "You did it," she whispered. "You kept your word."
Scarlet gave a weak smile, though it was tinged with pain. "Yeah... looks like I did."
As Banshee helped her to her feet, Vanguard finally spoke, his tone hard but not as harsh as before. "This doesn't mean I trust you, Scarlet. But... you've earned the right to explain yourself."
Scarlet nodded, her strength barely holding. "I'll tell you... everything I know. But first... I need a doctor."
Banshee looked at Vanguard, her expression pleading. For a long moment, Vanguard said nothing, his eyes locked on Scarlet. Then, with a sigh, he gestured to the nearby medics.
"Get her patched up," he ordered, though his gaze never left Scarlet. "And watch her closely."
As the medics rushed to help, Banshee stood by, watching as Scarlet was carried away. She had taken a gamble—and for now, it seemed to have paid off. But the question still lingered in her mind: Why had Scarlet risked so much to help them?
And, more importantly, was this the beginning of her redemption—or just another deception waiting to unfold?
