Interior – Observation Deck, Later
Manners watched the pair exit the chamber, sweat still clinging to their faces despite the cooling tech in the suits.
Ø MANNERS (quietly): “They’re syncing.”
Ø FINN: “Yeah. But syncing means they’ll fall together if it goes wrong.”
Ø MANNERS: “Not if I keep them one step ahead.”
Interior – Caleb’s Hideout, That Night
The woman beside Caleb was slight, graceful, face hidden by a porcelain half-mask.
Tammy.
She watched footage of the bunker. Somehow, they’d tapped a drone.
Ø TAMMY: “They’re beautiful together.”
Ø CALEB: “So were me and Tom once.”
He turned off the screen.
Ø CALEB: “Let’s see how long their rhythm lasts when I break the beat.”
Chapter 5: Tools of the Future
Part 7: Ash and Echoes
Interior – Bunker Briefing Room, Night
The tracer IP had taken Manners and Finn two full days to unravel.
It wasn’t just masked — it was twisted. Hopping across defunct servers, rewritten every 30 seconds, bouncing through private satellites like a shadow through glass.
But now, it was leading somewhere.
Ø MANNERS: “It pings from an abandoned apartment block on Westminister Drive.”
Ø LAYLA: “That place burned down twice in five years. Nothing but skeleton walls and regrets.”
Ø TOM: “Sounds like home.”
He rose, already slipping the Remnant mask on.
Ø FINN: “This doesn’t feel like recon. It feels like bait.”
Ø TOM: “If it’s bait… someone thinks I’m still starving.”
Exterior – Westminister Drive, 1:04 AM
The streets were quiet.
But too quiet.
No junkies.
No rats.
Just dust and distant sirens.
Tom moved like smoke through the alley, the only sound his soft mechanical steps and the occasional hiss of air from his suit.
He entered the building — floorboards groaning under boots.
Third floor.
That’s where the ping had ended.
Interior – Abandoned Apartment 3F
It looked like a war room.
Dozens of monitors blinked with code.
Printouts lined the walls — crime scene photos, footage of Remnant’s missions, even snapshots of Tom’s face from years ago, eyes swollen, lips cracked.
Drawn in red marker on a whiteboard:
“YOU ARE WHAT’S LEFT.”
Tom’s mouth tightened.
On the desk — a single note, in cursive.
Ø “I’m small but round, yet full of might. This might be the night I show you my might.”
Tom’s eyes scanned it. A riddle. A taunt.
Ø TOM (on comm): “Manners… this riddle again.”
Ø MANNERS (immediate): “Tom. It’s a bomb. Get out—**”
BOOOOOM.
The apartment blew.
Glass shattered outward in a violent bloom of orange and black, the fireball swallowing everything.
Tom had just jumped backward — blasted through the hallway window as the floor gave out behind him.
He crashed into the next building wall, crumpled into a dumpster below, flames lighting the night sky behind him.
Interior – Shadow League Loft, Somewhere Unlisted
Tammy sat at a vanity, brushing her long black hair back from her bare shoulder. A silk robe hung low on her back, revealing just enough to tempt.
Behind her, Caleb stared at a monitor, watching the explosion on repeat.
Ø CALEB (quietly): “I almost hoped he wouldn’t fall for it.”
Tammy rose slowly, walking over in soft steps, hips swaying.
Ø TAMMY: “You act like you want him dead.”
Ø CALEB: “He abandoned me.”
Ø TAMMY (teasing): “He escaped. There’s a difference.”
She leaned over his shoulder, arms wrapping around his neck loosely, lips brushing the edge of his ear.
Ø TAMMY (softly): “You hate him… and yet you obsess. That kind of tension is dangerous.”
Ø CALEB: “He needs to see pain.”
Ø TAMMY: “Pain made him stronger.”
She stepped back, now standing before him.
Ø TAMMY: “My father should hear about this. Someone who endures the flames... might belong among the shadows.”
Ø CALEB (cold): “He doesn’t belong anywhere.”
Ø TAMMY (smiling): “We’ll see. Goodbye, Caleb.”
She turned, hips shifting, robe catching the light.
Ø CALEB (muttering): “She always leaves before I can decide if I hate her or worship her.”
Interior – Bunker, Later That Night
Tom staggered through the bunker doors.
His armor blackened, one arm dangling.
Layla rushed to him, voice cracking. “You idiot, what happened?!”
Ø TOM (gritting): “Bomb. Whole block. Nothing left but ash.”
Manners stared at him. “They’re escalating.”
Tom didn’t respond.
He reached for the katana. Laid it across the table.
Ø TOM (quietly): “He wanted me to remember. Every flame. Every scream.”
Ø LAYLA: “We’ll make him remember.”
Tom looked up at her, eyes cold behind the mask.
Ø TOM: “No. We’ll make him burn.”
Chapter 5: Tools of the Future
Part 8: Wounds We Don’t See
Interior – Medical Bay, Late Night
Tom’s armor lay on the steel slab — scorched, cracked, and dented.
Manners stood beside it, wiping ash from the edge of the shoulder plate. A crack down the spine of the chest plate exposed part of the insulation. The mask had been split slightly along the cheek — enough to show a fracture.
Ø MANNERS (mutters): “Damn near broke you.”
Across the room, Tom sat shirtless on the edge of the med bench, ribs wrapped, left arm stitched, right eye bruised purple.
Layla hovered beside him, wiping the dried blood from his jaw.
Ø LAYLA: “You’re lucky you’re alive.”
Ø TOM (deadpan): “Not sure lucky is the word.”
She dabbed again — harder.
Ø TOM (grunting): “You trying to help me or kill me?”
Ø LAYLA: “Both. Depending how honest you’re about to be.”
Tom looked at her, surprised.
Ø LAYLA: “He knew where to hurt you. The videos. The words. That riddle. It wasn’t just a bomb — it was him. Caleb.”
Ø TOM (quietly): “He was there with me. In the cages. We shared water. Fought side by side. I thought he died.”
He flexed his hand.
Ø TOM: “But I made it out. He didn’t.”
Ø LAYLA: “So now he blames you.”
Ø TOM: “I blame me.”
Ø LAYLA (firmly): “No. He chose what he became. You chose not to. That’s the difference.”
She looked at him — really looked. Saw the pain beneath the muscle. The boy behind the mask.
Ø LAYLA: “You don’t have to carry this alone.”
Ø TOM (soft): “I don’t know how not to.”
Interior – Finn’s Tech Lab
Finn stood in front of a digital wall filled with code. His eyes were bloodshot, hands jittering as he typed at near-inhuman speed.
Ø FINN (to himself): “Come on, come on, just thread the neural mesh, reroute the logic nodes…”
A new schematic loaded: REMNANT SIMULATION: V2.2 — ENEMY RECOGNITION LEARNING ADAPTIVE PATCH
Ø FINN: “Gotcha.”
He grinned.
Ø FINN (to comm): “Manners. I finished it. Adaptive AI — it learns from past fights. Every opponent Tom sees, it archives their movements, builds models, and runs simulation training to beat them.”
Ø MANNERS (over comm): “Holy hell. You just gave him hindsight as a weapon.”
Ø FINN: “I call it… ‘Ghost Memory.’”
Ø MANNERS: “Creepy. Perfect.”
Interior – Training Deck, Dawn
Tom stood in the new training pod, armor repaired, mask adjusted. The new HUD flickered to life, faster and cleaner than ever.
Ø AI: “Ghost Memory Active.”
He faced a hologram.
Caleb.
Every move was pulled from past recordings — the alley, the rooftop, the cage.
Tom fought hard — faster. More reactive. But still, the hologram read his habits, punishing him for over-commits and hesitation.
Ten rounds.
Eight losses.
Two narrow wins.
Ø LAYLA (watching from console): “You’re pushing. Hard.”
Ø TOM (breathing): “Because I won’t beat Caleb by surviving. I need to end it.”
Ø LAYLA: “Then learn him. Don’t just fight.”
Interior – Bunker Common Room, That Night
Tom sat with his mask off. Layla beside him. A blanket over both their shoulders, coffee mugs in hand. The hum of old radio static filled the silence.
Ø LAYLA: “Do you remember who you were before?”
Tom didn’t answer right away.
Ø TOM: “Yeah. He was afraid. But he still had hope.”
Ø LAYLA: “And now?”
Ø TOM (soft): “Now he’s afraid of hope.”
She reached up, touched his jaw gently.
Ø LAYLA: “You don’t have to be. Not with me.”
He leaned in slightly, resting his forehead against hers.
Ø TOM (whispers): “I’m trying.”
Interior – Caleb’s Hideout, Same Time
Tammy sat on a couch, legs crossed, sipping wine.
Ø TAMMY: “You lost him. Didn’t you.”
Caleb didn’t look up.
Ø CALEB: “He survived.”
Ø TAMMY: “That’s what he does. And the longer he breathes… the more people are going to believe in him.”
Ø CALEB: “Then I’ll make them fear him instead.”
She smiled.
Ø TAMMY: “You’ll try.”
---
Chapter 6: The Wolves at the Gate
Part 1 – Smoke Behind the Throne
(A shift into the enemy’s shadows — where men wear suits over war crimes and power is paid in silence.)
Interior – Vance Enterprises, 64th Floor – Midnight
Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched over a burning cityscape. Below, Detroit’s ghost lights flickered like fireflies in purgatory. Above, silence. Immaculate. Controlled.
The office was surgical. Marble desk. Dark wood floors. A crystal decanter untouched for decades.
Behind the desk stood Vance Carrion.
Silver-haired. Eyes like cooled steel. Tailored to perfection. The kind of man who smiled on magazine covers and ordered bombings by blinking.
His back faced the room, staring out into the smog.
A body hit the floor behind him with a thud.
Blood leaking.
A man’s body — beaten. Mouth still open from whatever plea he’d died on.
Caleb stood over him, breathing hard, eyes dull and sweat-slicked. His gloved hand still held the now-stained staff.
Ø VANCE (without turning): “I told you not to waste time.”
Ø CALEB: “He was compromised. Gave intel to someone hunting our routes. It led to the Remnant.”
Ø VANCE: “And now?”
Ø CALEB: “Now he’s a warning.”
Vance turned slowly, folding his hands behind his back. His voice was smooth, but cut like frostbite.
Ø VANCE: “You’ve let your obsession cloud your judgment. You’re chasing a ghost instead of building me a wall.”
Ø CALEB (firm): “That ghost is dismantling your empire one trafficker at a time.”
Ø VANCE: “Because you let him live.”
Silence.
Then—
Ø VANCE (cont’d): “The city believes in him. Fear doesn’t work if it inspires hope. You understand that, don’t you?”
Caleb didn’t answer.
Ø VANCE: “Which is why I want him crucified. Publicly. Visibly. We’ll call it ‘justice.’”
Interior – Holding Room Adjacent
A bald man sat behind a glass wall, hands zip-tied. His lip trembled as he looked down at a single file folder Vance had tossed through the slot an hour ago.
Inside: photos of the Remnant. Every kill. Every rescue.
Ø THUG (to the guard): “You don’t understand… he didn’t talk. He just stared. And when he moved…”
He shivered.
Ø THUG (quiet): “It was like being hunted by the ghost of someone I killed.”
Outside the glass, Vance watched through the one-way panel.
Ø VANCE (to Caleb): “You see? He’s become something. That makes him dangerous. The people root for myths.”
Ø CALEB: “Then we take away the myth.”
Ø VANCE: “No. We replace it.”
Interior – Black Site Underground, Same Night
A different space now — concrete walls, flickering bulbs.
A warehouse turned lab.
Here, Vance’s true investments breathed.
Iron slabs bore prototypes: armor, shock gauntlets, projectile EMPs. And near the back—four men, ex-military, ex-cartel, ex-law. Now his newest weapons.
Caleb walked among them, silent.
He stopped at the biggest of the group — a man Tom had once fought on the stairwell.
Harlan Knox.
Knox smiled with broken teeth.
Ø KNOX: “Tell me this Remnant boy bleeds. Because I owe him.”
Ø CALEB: “You’ll get your shot. But not yet.”
He moved on.
Ø CALEB (to all): “When the curtain falls, you’ll be center stage. Not as a team. As a kill squad.”
Interior – Vance’s Office Again
The city below burned slowly, like a cigarette that never ended.
Vance poured a glass of wine finally.
Ø VANCE (to himself): “Let the myth rise. It only makes the fall more poetic.”
He sipped. Then:
Ø VANCE (to comm): “Tell our media contacts… the ‘Remnant’ is no longer a rumor. He’s a threat. And when he strikes next, I want the whole world to watch.”
Chapter 6: The Wolves at the Gate
Part 2 – Sparks in the Forge
(The world shifts. The mask gets heavier. And the people behind it push forward, not because they’re ready—but because they have no choice.)
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