New York's criminal underworld was in chaos.
For the past three nights, operations across the city had been collapsing — drug deals, weapon shipments, street gangs, hideouts. Everywhere the story was the same. A blue blur would appear, and then everything would fall apart. And no one could stop it.
Inside a dim warehouse in Brooklyn, the air was thick with cigarette smoke and frustration. A dozen gang members gathered around a large metal table littered with weapons, half-empty beer bottles, and a crumpled city map.
One man slammed his fist down hard enough that the pistols on the table rattled. "This is getting ridiculous!"
"Three shipments this week," another man said. "All gone!"
A third man paced nervously near the back wall, wiping sweat from his forehead. "That thing wiped out my crew at the docks. It's not human." He shook his head slowly. "Nothing moves that fast."
One of the younger gang members spoke quietly from the corner. Everyone turned toward him. His voice trembled slightly. "I saw it. It's blue. And it runs like…" He struggled for the right word. "…like lightning."
Silence spread through the warehouse.
One of the older criminals rubbed his chin. "That Blur thing again." Another man leaned against the table. "Did anyone tell the boss?"
The room instantly went quiet. Everyone knew exactly who "the boss" meant. Tombstone. One of the men swallowed nervously. "Yeah. He knows."
That didn't make anyone feel better.
Across the city a blue streak shot across the rooftops, wind screaming past XLR8 as he raced along the skyline. The city blurred beneath his feet while Jack's eyes constantly scanned the streets below — looking, listening, searching.
Crime doesn't disappear. they just hides.
Then he spotted movement. An alleyway below. Three men stood beside the back door of a jewelry store while one of them jammed a crowbar into the lock, the metal creaking loudly.
"Come on," the thief muttered. "Hurry up."
The second man looked around nervously. "You sure the alarm's disabled?"
The third shrugged. "Relax. We're good."
A violent gust of wind ripped through the alley. WHAM. The first thief slammed into a dumpster. The second spun sideways as his legs vanished from under him. The third froze as XLR8 appeared directly in front of him.
The criminal stared for a long moment. "Oh come on." He immediately raised both hands. "Okay! I quit!"
Jack tilted his head slightly. The man slowly sat down on the ground. "See? Cooperating."
XLR8 stared silently for a second. Then Jack sighed. "This city…" He vanished again.
Near midnight, a gang hideout in Queens buzzed with drunken laughter. Five criminals sat around a poker table surrounded by empty beer bottles and cigarette smoke.
One man tossed his chips forward. "Full house."
Another groaned. "You're cheating."
The winner grinned. "Skill."
Then — BOOM. The door exploded inward, wood splintering across the room. The men turned toward the doorway and froze.
A tall crystalline figure stepped through the broken frame. His entire body shimmered under the dim lights like living glass, jagged blue crystals forming his arms and shoulders, light refracting across every faceted surface.
Diamondhead.
The criminals stared. "…What the hell is that?"
First real fight with this form, Jack thought, flexing his crystal fingers slowly. Let's see what you can do.
One of the gang members grabbed a pistol. "Shoot it!"
BANG. The bullet hit Diamondhead's chest. CLINK. The metal ricocheted harmlessly off his crystalline body and embedded itself in the wall behind him. The gunman blinked slowly. "…You've gotta be kidding me."
Jack grinned. Okay. That's useful.
Another criminal swung a chair wildly. Jack caught it with one crystal hand and the wooden frame shattered instantly against his palm. He tilted his head. "Not very durable." Then he slammed his palm into the floor. CRACK. Sharp crystal spikes erupted from the ground like jagged spears, pinning two criminals against the wall.
"WHAT IS THAT?!" one of them screamed.
Huh. That worked better than expected.
Another thug rushed forward with a knife. Jack stepped aside casually and flicked his arm. A crystal shard shot forward like a thrown blade and pinned the knife to the wall beside the man's head with a sharp THUNK. The thug froze instantly. "Okay! I surrender!"
Jack crossed his crystal arms. "Good choice."
The last criminal bolted for the window. Jack sighed. "Really?" He stomped his foot. A crystal pillar erupted from the floor and blocked the exit completely. The man skidded to a stop and slowly turned around. "…Nope."
Within seconds the hideout looked like a battlefield. Crystal spikes covered the floor, broken furniture lay scattered everywhere, and the criminals were either unconscious or pinned to walls by crystalline structures. Jack looked around slowly, watching the light reflect across his own surface. Diamondhead is definitely staying in rotation.
Jack stepped outside into the cool night air. Green light flashed and he returned to human form, stretching his neck slowly. "That felt good."
The system panel appeared.
[ Hero Points: 80 ]
Jack sighed. "Still a long way to go." But something interesting had started happening across the city. Crime was dropping — police reports showed fewer robberies, drug trades had slowed, weapons shipments were stopping before they could move. The criminals weren't just losing operations. They were getting nervous.
Inside the warehouse, twelve men sat around a table that had seen better days. One bare bulb hung overhead. Someone's radio was playing low in the corner until Reyes looked at it and the man nearest to it turned it off.
Reyes dropped a folded paper on the table.
"Boss sent this down. We go over it, we understand it, we don't ask stupid questions." He looked around once. "Simple."
Nobody said anything.
"Three jobs got hit this week." He held up three fingers. "Three. Same thing every time. So the boss watched the pattern and he built a counter. We're not coming up with anything here tonight — that's already done. We just run it."
He opened the paper.
"Nothing moves solo anymore. Two crews, two routes, one destination. One gets hit, the other still delivers." He moved on without waiting for reactions. "Every job runs with ten minimum. Armed. Armor. Radios. Positions set before anything moves — not when something goes wrong. Before."
One man at the end of the table scratched his jaw. "And if that thing actually shows up?"
"Then you don't run." Reyes said it flat. "That's been the problem. Everyone scatters and it picks you apart one by one." He tapped the table. "Oil. Every handoff point gets drums ready. Ground gets flooded the second something moves wrong. Boss already proved that works — it can't do what it does on slick ground. So we stop giving it clean ground."
"What about the big red one," someone muttered.
"Two guys up high. Rockets. Fire zones already marked before the job starts." Reyes didn't slow down. "You see that form you don't wait — you fire. Not after it's in the middle of everybody. The second it shows."
A younger guy leaned back in his chair. "Bullets bounced off that thing last time."
"Yeah." Reyes looked at him. "That's why I said rockets."
The guy shut up.
"Hostages stay on standby at every major job. Two minimum. The moment that thing appears they come out front." He crossed his arms. "It stops every time. Boss clocked that from the start. Use it."
One of the older men spoke up slowly. "We trying to kill it or what."
"No." Reyes picked up his jacket. "Boss wants it breathing. We capture it, we run it down, we bring it in. That's the whole job." He looked around the table. "Anyone tries to be a hero and damages it — that's a problem with the boss directly. Not me."
The room stayed quiet on that one.
Reyes folded the paper and pocketed it.
"Assignments go out tonight before anyone leaves. You know your position before you walk out that door." He moved toward the exit. "Boss already did the thinking. We just do the work."
He left.
The men at the table looked at each other for a second. Then someone reached for the radio and turned it back on low, and they got down to it.
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