After noon, a deceptive calm settled over the Mannequin Factory. Steve, still feeling the weight of the morning's events, stepped out into the courtyard where the fighters of James and Henry were cleaning their weapons. The air was thick with resolve.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a sharp radio signal. An urgent message had arrived from Dex and Volien.
— Attention all teams! — Dex's voice sounded firm. — The plan has changed. Volien's Forest Army will take charge of defending the borders of Marionis. They are sealing off all paths so that Torsken's mannequins cannot break through unnoticed.
Henry frowned as he listened to the orders.
— And what about us? — he asked into the microphone.
— James's team and your men remain at the Factory, — Dex replied. — You are the last line of defense. The Factory must not fall. We are splitting our forces in two to prevent Torsken from striking a single point with all his might.
Steve watched as the fighters began to distribute themselves among the posts. But the main hunt was just beginning: squads were already scouring the surrounding areas for the ringleaders of the scoundrels who had caused yesterday's riot. Crime in the district had begun to rise, sensing the chaos of war.
At that moment, an old, dusty SUV pulled up to the Factory gates. Several respected elders from the local council stepped out—men who remembered the times when the law in these parts meant more than fear.
One of them, a white-haired man with deep wrinkles, approached Steve. In his hands was a small velvet box.
— Steve Kellark, — the elder said softly. — We have been watching you for a long time. In these dark times, the city needs someone whose name makes villains tremble. Your father, Duncan, was a rock upon which the waves of crime broke.
He opened the box. In the sunlight, an old but perfectly polished silver Sheriff's star gleamed.
— We have decided that the right to wear this belongs to you by right of blood and honor. Take it, son. Become who you were born to be.
Steve froze. His hand trembled as he touched the cold metal. He remembered his father—his steady gaze and this very star on his chest. With a deep breath, Steve pinned the shining symbol to his jacket.
— I accept this duty, — Steve said firmly. — From this moment on, Kellark's law rules this land.
He did not hesitate. Right there, before the eyes of Henry's fighters, the new Sheriff began to act.
— Team! — he addressed the volunteers. — We will not wait for the scoundrels to come to us. We will smoke them out of every hole. We begin the cleanup of the suburbs. Everyone who raised a hand against peaceful citizens or helped Torsken will answer to the law!
Steve Kellark was no longer just a shop assistant. He had become the justice of the district.