Salvatore leaned forward in his chair, the glow from multiple screens illuminating the stark contours of his face. The dimly lit room, lined with shelves of archaic and modern scientific paraphernalia, was his laboratory—the hub of his operations and the birthplace of his greatest creations. Salvatore watched the videos his Adrenomancers had sent him, analyzing the scenes frame by frame.

His fingers danced across the keyboard, pulling up footage after footage, studying the recordings minutely. The Mad Chemist paused occasionally whenever a significant detail occurred, rewinding the files and replaying sections repeatedly. Hours passed as Salvatore immersed himself wholly into the analysis.

The fight footage played on a loop, but it wasn't the heroics that caught his eye—no, it was the gear.

"The slums can't claim credit for such craftsmanship," he muttered to himself, scrutinizing the sleek design of Axion's bodysuit. "Too refined. Let's see who you've been talking to."

Its contours and fabric hinted towards a specialized tech—something akin to the metropolis' finest. Such functionality, paired with aesthetic appeal, required a highly sophisticated manufacturer. Salvatore knew the signature of every major tech player in the metropolis, and this suit...it sparked recognition.

He cross-referenced the suit's design with his extensive database of gear worn by metropolis heroes. His network of informants and his own endeavors had amassed a treasure trove of such information, a byproduct of his fascination with those who dared to don costumes and masks in the name of justice.

With a few swift keystrokes, he filtered through the entries until he found a match.

"There," he exclaimed softly. "Dynatech Industries. They pride themselves on creating gear for the elites. So, how did a slum hero acquire one of their top-tier suits?"

The manufacturer specialized in nanoweave fibers, a favorite among heroes who prioritized mobility and comfort. Dynatech's production line was famously guarded and restricted—accessible to only the metropolis' most esteemed superheroes. 

Salvatore recalled an infamous scandal in which a group of aspiring rookies attempted to hack into the company's systems, seeking access to their premium products. Needless to say, Dynatech's countermeasures dispatched their intruders swiftly.

Only someone well-connected within Dynatech's inner circle would receive equipment from the exclusive manufacturing lines. Salvatore's interest piqued—this heroine exhibited connections beyond her limited background. Axion's origins revealed no remarkable achievements or accomplishments.

"Let's dig a bit deeper. Who did you meet, Axion?"

His curiosity piqued, Salvatore turned his attention to Axion's helmet. The design was unmistakable now that he knew what to look for. Only one company crafted such sophisticated gear—OptiMax Defense, an exclusive supplier to the metropolis military. The Ultimate Guardians themselves favored their iconic cyber-helmets.

Salvatore recalled his unsuccessful attempts to procure their latest cutting-edge tech. OptiMax Defense denied him—their supply was strictly reserved for the premier metropolis superhero teams and military personnel. No exceptions.

To have both Dynatech's bodysuit and OptiMax's cyber-helmet was a significant feat.

A slum-dweller could never afford such gear—unless, in truth, this heroine was a metropolis hero masquerading as a slum vigilante. Salvatore entertained the idea—could the Ultimate Guardians have planted their assets amidst the slums?

No—too costly. Metropolis superheroes never risked their lives to protect a slum. Even then Ultimate Guardians lacked the drive and motivation to associate with slum-dwellers. Too privileged. Axion's heroic deeds contradicted Ultimate Guardians' apathetic ideologies—Salvatore was certain metropolis involvement did not play a role.

Another possibility resurfaced—Dynatech and OptiMax had rogue employees. Someone secretly provided the heroine with gear and armor. Salvatore could not pinpoint the connection—such an opportunity was unprecedented. Dynatech and OptiMax Defense prided themselves on loyalty—their employees had zero motive for committing corporate espionage. Salvatore could not deduce a convincing theory.

But one this is certain... Someone was funding her—someone powerful.

Question was: who acquired the resources and funneled them towards her? Salvatore had an inkling suspicion—Virgil. But the vigilante was no saint.

No. Salvatore ruled Virgil out—he had no affiliation with Dynatech or OptiMax Defense. Moreover, Virgil lacked the financial capabilities to sponsor her. Whoever aided her possessed significant influence or wealth. Salvatore smirked—now things became even more fascinating.

An unknown benefactor supported her, equipping her with Dynatech and OptiMax Defense's premiere technologies. Who did Axion meet during her early heroics?

Salvatore needed more leads—more evidence. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers.

"Who are you, Axion? And who's backing your play?" he whispered, the gears in his mind turning. This wasn't just a matter of finding a rogue superhero in his territory; this was a game of connections, of influence that stretched into the very heart of the metropolis.

The thought didn't sit well with Salvatore. He thrived on control, on being the one pulling the strings. An unknown player with resources and tech at their disposal? That was a threat to his dominion, an anomaly in his meticulously constructed order.

"No matter," he decided, a cold resolve hardening in his eyes. "Every mystery can be unraveled, every secret exposed."

Salvatore wasn't petty—he understood his limits. Axion posed no immediate danger—her efforts inconsequential and minuscule. Regardless, his intuition alerted him—there was more at stake now than just capturing a rogue superhero. Salvatore sensed an unseen hand was at play, a concealed agenda lay dormant beneath the surface.

For the first time in years—Salvatore experienced uncertainty. His foray into the slum yielded unexpected surprises. Initially, his plans consisted of a simple domination—a consolidation of the metropolis' leftovers. The slums were the perfect breeding grounds—untouched, uncultured.

He could have any number of potential candidates for his Adrenomancer program—to test his formula without repercussion. Unlimited opportunities. Salvatore's aspirations did not entail subjugating the metropolis—only its castoffs. Simple—uncomplicated.

Now, a wildcard was tossed onto the chessboard—and Salvatore disliked surprises. He appreciated structure and symmetry. Chaos disrupted his order and introduced variables—variables Salvatore didn't account for.

"No matter," Salvatore repeated his earlier statement. "Every variable has its place—every pawn must play their part."

Salvatore typed a series commands and opened a command prompt window. Accessing his secured server, Salvatore initiated a search protocol.

Setting aside his preoccupations regarding Axion's benefactor, Salvatore focused on the second variable—Axion herself. Dealing with Gravikinesis proved problematic—Salvatore's Adrenomancers lacked the proper countermeasures. If her capabilities were anything remotely close to what the leader of the Ultimate Guardians, Prime, could achieve...

"Time to even the odds," Salvatore murmured as he entered the relevant keywords. His software algorithms sieved through official and underground databases alike—bringing forth a plethora of data.

Finding any relevant information regarding telekinetic or gravikinetic phenomenons was a long shot, but Salvatore wasn't above exploring unconventional avenues.

Within mere moments, his algorithm produced a promising lead—a research paper titled "Tidal Force Sensitivity Index" authored by an obscure scientist named Edith Weiss.

The name was new to him, an uncommon occurrence for someone who prided himself on knowing every prominent researcher in his field. Salvatore downloaded the document and proceeded to scan the contents. Within the opening paragraph, his eyebrows rose—gravikinesis, the manipulation of graviton particles.

Salvatore was a chemist—physics and quantum mechanics were a hobby of his—but a correlation between tidal forces and meta-abilities? Salvatore had never encountered research so specific—so detailed. The publish date was recent, a finding that only added to the allure.

It wasn't just the content that intrigued him but the platform it resided on—shared through the same underground networks he frequented, meant for those who had been cast out by the city's scientific elite.

As he read further, his eyes widened upon seeing the name of the research subject—Axion.

Salvatore abruptly stood up from his chair. For the first time in years, his pulse quickened. His algorithm unearthed a gold mine. Salvatore immediately committed the findings and methodology of the study to memory. Every detail. Every nuance. He didn't question Edith Weiss's credibility—Axion's capabilities validated her research.

But more importantly, now he was almost certain who Axion's sponsor was—Edith Weiss herself.

Salvatore's fingers flew across the keyboard as he initiated a search for anything relating to this Edith Weiss. His algorithm brought forth a list of profiles—information spanning from her educational credentials to her employment history.

"Former biogeneticist employed by Metropolis' leading pharmaceutical company," Salvatore read aloud. The title and job description indicated a prominent researcher and an influential position—within the upper echelons.

Dr. Edith Weiss, it seemed, was a pariah among her peers, a genius whose brilliance was marred by her blatant disregard for the boundaries deemed sacrosanct by the conservative factions within the metropolis's scientific elite. Her methods and research were deemed too radical—too controversial.

Salvatore grinned—this Edith Weiss had a familiar story. Much like his past self.

He continued his investigation—His screens lit up with tab after tab of meticulously organized data that peeled back the layers of her life. He discovered her brilliance in genetics and Metahuman research, a mind potentially as sharp as his own but directed towards the secrets of human evolution.

Weiss's most ambitious project—unlocking the secret to the artificial creation of the Metahuman genome—resulted in the termination of her contract and her standing within the scientific community. Her research had crossed the proverbial line—Weiss had gone too far and disregarded moral and ethical codes.

Branded a hoax, her theories were mocked as the delusions of a madwoman. Her sponsors abandoned her—casting her aside and stripping her of her reputation and academic credentials.

"Project Genesis—Genetically Engineered Metahuman Individuals..." Salvatore had heard rumors regarding Metahuman experimentations—but no legitimate source ever surfaced. Until now, it seemed.

Salvatore's mind raced with possibilities. If Weiss had managed to unlock the secrets of the Metahuman genome, then the implications were staggering. It wasn't just about Axion anymore; it was about the potential to wield power on a scale previously unimaginable. The ability to create Metahumans, to shape the very essence of human potential and evolution, was a prize worth any risk.

As he pieced together the timeline of Weiss's career, Salvatore discovered her exile, a punishment meted out by the city-state's officials for her obstinacy and her refusal to abandon her quest.

Weiss willingly fled the metropolis—escaping punishment and leaving behind her old life. Salvatore hypothesized her sponsors threatened legal repercussions and criminal proceedings—a possibility consistent with the metropolis' strict regulations and governing rules.

But more intriguing was her migration to the slums—Salvatore couldn't imagine anyone willingly choosing the squalor and poverty within the slum's confines. Unless...Weiss relocated intentionally. Salvatore had assumed her banishment was permanent—an exile that forced her into permanent displacement. He reconsidered—perhaps her flight was planned.

The timing was auspicious, but after thinking about it further, he realized that just like him, Weiss figured that the slum-dwellers presented a unique population pool—perfect subjects for her controversial research. Salvatore could respect Weiss's ingenuity—she'd found the ideal subjects—away from the metropolis's eyes and laws while still being close enough to reliably acquire any supplies and materials from sources who hadn't abandoned her.

Sources like Dynatech and OptiMax, perhaps. 

Companies Weiss likely had a past relationship with prior to her exile. Salvatore wasn't surprised—wealthy, prestigious companies such as Dynatech and OptiMax had no issue breaking their contracts and morals as long as profit was involved.

Salvatore admired Weiss's cleverness. Her isolation was her salvation. Exiled to the slums, Weiss had found her sanctuary. Her brilliant mind would have no problem adjusting to the ramshackle environment, especially since the metropolis readily discarded her.

The more Salvatore learned about Weiss's exile, the more he understood the depth of her obsession. She was a fellow disgraced genius—a woman who, much like himself, pursued goals no conventional mind could comprehend. She sought knowledge and truth—unafraid of crossing boundaries and facing the inevitable backlash.

Salvatore approved—Weiss had earned his admiration. But more than that, her expertise and research were invaluable. He craved Weiss's intellect and expertise—if her research contained the secrets of Metahumans and their genes...

Axion was no longer important—the slums itself mattered no longer.

No. Salvatore desired Weiss and her research—nothing else. Finding her and claiming her was now his ultimate goal—at all costs.

He contemplated a multitude of strategies—his objectives shifted. Reaching for his smartphone, Salvatore dialed a number. Seconds later, a masked face appeared on the screen.

"Mirage. I have an important mission for you. Find and track an individual named Edith Weiss. She's somewhere in the slums. Retrieve her—Alive."

Salvatore terminated the call and began devising a new strategy.

Those five Adrenomancers weren't going to be enough to capture Axion and Weiss—not if Virgil intervened.

No. Salvatore foresaw the need for a more substantial force. He initiated another phone call. Moments passed, and his Head of Operations at the other facility answered.

"Mr. Salvatore. How can we assist you today?"

Salvatore allowed his lips to curl into a grin.

"Luca. Ready a transport—bring a hundred Adrenomancers. I'll send you the details."