In chambers elevated far above the teeming metropolis, Vic beheld his countenance reflected in obsidian glass, the immaculate cut of his tailored suit stark against the darkness beyond. The phone on his desk buzzed once. A new message glowed on the screen.

“Sorry I’m late to report. He’s skilled, albeit reckless, and ended up getting attacked by one of us. He managed to isolate one of the cameras in the network. Going to meet tomorrow to find out exactly what he saw.”

Vic grimaced. Eliza's methods left a sour taste in his mouth, but he couldn't argue with her past results. Another message notification appeared.

“Also, my charms didn't work on him. Having to do this the old fashioned way.”

His fingers raked across the stiff, pomaded bristles of his regulation cut.

A resistant mortal… interesting choice of target.

Vic's palm met the cold window as he surveyed the city below, his gaze drawn to the illuminated spire of the Town Hall. When he pulled away, the glass remained pristine, as though he'd never touched it at all.

I’ll keep a loose leash on her, for now, so long as she doesn’t let her mask slip. If that happens… I’ll kill her myself… - he thought, picking the phone up off the table. He tapped out a reply.

“Understood. If he's not a soldier, don't send him to war.” Vic typed, thumb hovering over the send icon before pressing down. The missive dispatched itself into the electronic void, and he restored the device to its resting place upon the desk, the vitreous plane imparting a chill against his hand.

The city sprawled below, a glittering mess of lights that blurred into one another, like veins pulsing with too much life. He rubbed the bridge of his nose; another night staring at screens and shadows, piecing together threats; it went against his nature. He was built for the field, not the sidelines.

He lifted his coat from the rack, working each button through its hole before turning toward the exit. At the threshold, he cast a final look over his shoulder at the sprawl of city lights, his mouth twisting into a hard line.

I hope we’ve not left our flank exposed. It only takes a moment before someone drives a knife into it…