Raze sauntered along the crowded streets—an apex predator amidst his natural habitat. A flock of slum-dwellers avoided his path—a bubble of empty space formed as word of his presence spread.

Let the rats chatter. Those who dared gawk were swiftly cowed into submission. Nothing more than prey. Fear. Submission. Pack dynamics—easy as 1-2-3. Raze had no interest in instigating a hunt. Not yet.

Not until he eliminated the prey his boss ordered him to kill.

Boss's orders. Raze liked obedience—taking orders excited him. Boss was boss—Raze submitted. Happily. Boss promised violence. Blood. Pain. Lots of fun. Boss cared. Boss gave him serum. Boosted him. Made him strong. Stronger than the puny prey surrounding him. Raze enjoyed his serum. His veins sang. Pulses of fire fueling his muscles. Serum was nice. Boss was nicer. Raze followed.

Behind him, Blitz paced impatiently. Impulsive. Twitchy. Blitz didn't appreciate obedience. Boss's orders frustrated Blitz. Too bad. Boss was boss—Blitz couldn't resist. Boss controlled serum. Boss controlled Blitz. Boss controlled him. Raze laughed—Blitz disliked submission. Too funny.

"Will you stop grinning and hurry the hell up?!" Blitz hissed. "You're moving at a fucking snail's pace. Hurry the fuck UP."

Raze ignored Blitz and hummed happily. Blitz's whining. Fun. Raze walked slower.

"I swear to GOD. If you don't speed up, I'll KILL you. Move your DAMN legs and—"

Blitz's rambling was background noise—Raze didn't care. Boss ordered Raze and Blitz to eliminate Backfire. Boss ordered Havoc and Voltaire to meet with the Big Four. Boss ordered Mirage to look for someone. Boss did not mention why. Boss didn't have to. Raze and Blitz obeyed. Simple. Easy.

Boss was boss. Raze listened.

Raze scanned his surroundings. Slum-dwellers. Prey. Panicking. Squirming. Afraid. Amusing. Raze's territory. His hunting ground. Blitz could complain—Raze didn't care. Territory belonged to him. Slow stroll. Boss said Backfire hiding in slums. Target would come to him. All Raze needed to do was wait. Easy. Boss did all the planning. Smart boss. Clever. Tricky.

Raze smirked. Hunt soon.

---

Virgil crouched atop a dilapidated building—his scarred, weatherworn duster flapping gently in the wind. Beneath the brim of his Stetson cowboy hat, his steely gaze surveyed the streets below.

With a practiced eye, he spotted his quarry—a duo of Adrenomancers. One burly and lumbering. Another lean and darting. Both pumped up on Salvatore's serum. Both a threat. Virgil wasn't afraid—he'd faced worse.

From his perch, Virgil sized them up.

One Titan variant, and one Hyperion. Neither were Metahumans, but their enhancements made them formidable nonetheless. Hyperions were speedsters—capable of outrunning a car. Titans were a juggernaut class, impervious to pain and armed with superhuman strength and durability. Neither types were pleasantries.

Salvatore's serum was no joke—it pushed baseline humans beyond their limits, granting Adrenomancers unnatural physical capabilities. The side effects were a death sentence—five years tops. Most users wasted away from their damaged organs and ravaged biology. Five years was generous—most Adrenomancers died after three.

Virgil clicked his tongue and spat. That bastard Salvatore valued the endgame over the means. Sacrificing pawns to win a match. Typical. Salvatore wouldn't hesitate sacrificing these two Adrenomancers either. Virgil almost felt sorry for these fools.

Almost.

These Adrenomancers chose the devil's path—Virgil wasn't charitable. Not today. These bastards wouldn't walk away. Not alive, at least.

Edith wanted him to keep one of them alive though. She wanted to find out how Salvatore's serum worked.

A tall order. Holding back against these dangerous bastards required a delicate touch. Virgil would need to minimize his lethal techniques and rely on restraint. Tricky—these Adrenomancers would fight until their last breath. Taking prisoners wasn't his style. Edith's request went against his habits. Habits Virgil wouldn't shake overnight.

This better be worth it.

Virgil's trigger fingers flexed—his hand reaching for his Colt Peacemaker revolver. An old gun, but reliable. Customized firearms were hard to come across—let alone a working Colt revolver.

Gun drawn, Virgil cocked his Peacemaker and leaped off the rooftop—landing nimbly before the two Adrenomancers. He twirled the revolver, aiming the barrel directly at the big Adrenomancer's skull.

"Howdy," Virgil drawled. "Reckon the two of y'all are lost. It don't matter. Salvatore won't miss trash."

Virgil received no verbal response. Instead, the Hyperion hanging in the back dashed forward—fast. Too fast. Virgil's pistol barely tracked him.

"Too slow!" the Hyperion taunted as he closed the gap. "You can't hit me!"

Virgil fired his revolver—the ethereal bullet barely missing the Adrenomancer as the latter agilely dodged to the left. Unperturbed, Virgil rapidly spun the chamber and fired a second round. Then a third. A fourth. A fifth. With each pull of the trigger, the Peacemaker's cylinders rotated, emptying a new round as the previous bullets exploded into a barrage of ethereal energy bolts.

The Hyperion danced around each blast, evading each shot as his Titan comrade rushed Virgil. Virgil holstered his gun and leaped over the incoming charge. Vaulting overhead, he drew his pair of iron daggers and slashed downward at the Titan's shoulder as he landed.

The Titan raised an arm in defense and caught Virgil's strike against his forearm. The titan's skin hardened—bulging with coils of reinforced tissue beneath. The blades bounced off the Adrenomancer's augmented musculature, earning a loud chuckle from the former.

"Puny," the Titan sneered as he lunged. Virgil dove out of the way—rolling sideways to avoid a follow-up punch. A second attack. A third. Each time, Virgil narrowly ducked or sidestepped. Each missed swing threw the Titan off balance—giving Virgil the opportunity to close in and land a cut.

But the Adrenomancer didn't falter.

The Hyperion darted behind and joined the fray. In the span of a blink, Virgil found himself pressured from both sides. The Hyperion's speed coupled with the Titan's raw power created an unpredictable mix of attacks—forcing Virgil to fall back and resort to defense.

Firing a few shots of cover fire, Virgil retreated—moving fluidly between alleyways and open spaces. The Hyperion matched Virgil's speed—jumping between rooftops and staying close. Meanwhile, the Titan plowed through the alleys, blowing through obstacles like a wrecking ball.

Despite their disorganized teamwork, Virgil fought cautiously—careful to ensure he maintained an escape route.

As the Hyperion charged with inhuman speed, Virgil sprang backwards—bounding off a wall to gain additional height as he fired. Eyes shimmering, he switched his next shot to a Temporal Round.

The shot rang out, the bullet trailing a faint, ghostly light, cutting through the space between them. It hit—the Hyperion frozen in midair.

Virgil used this brief pause to roll to the side, positioning himself behind a crumbling wall for cover. The Titan smashed through moments later. As the Titan emerged through the wreckage, Virgil aimed his revolver and fired.

The Titan took the bullets head on. The rounds sank harmlessly into his flesh, drawing blood but little else. The Adrenomancer shrugged off the hits and continued his charge.

Virgil leaped backwards again—this time leaping onto a dumpster for height. As he jumped, he fired two shots imbued with a Bullet Bond effect—one shot aimed at the Hyperion, the other at the Titan. The ethereal energy bullet latched onto both Adrenomancers as it struck—tying them together with an ethereal connection.

As the Hyperion broke free of the Temporal Round's effects, Virgil aimed and fired another shot. The energy bullet whizzed through the air—the ethereal bolt striking the Hyperion in the leg, forcing him to a knee. At the same time, a similar wound manifested on the Titan's leg.

Virgil smirked—Bullet Bond was useful. Any damage applied to one Adrenomancer was mirrored to the other. The Titan might be resilient to the force behind his ethereal bullets, but the effects of the bond bypassed biological defenses. As long as Virgil could inflict damage on the Hyperion's quicker, softer flesh, the bond would allow him to injure the Titan as well.

The Titan, despite sustaining mirrored wounds, barreled onward. Virgil waited. Patience. Timing.

At the last minute, Virgil pivoted to the side, barely evading a wild haymaker from the Adrenomancer. As the Titan passed, Virgil fired a Phantom Shot through him. The spectral bullet phased through the Titan's torso and hit the Hyperion on his back. Both Adrenomancers staggered.

"Shit!" the Hyperion cursed, the wounds on his leg and back bleeding freely. Beside him, the Titan roared angrily—charging forward yet again. Virgil leaped once more. Onto a ledge. Over a dumpster. Onto an awning.

Round and around they went, the Titan charging recklessly as Virgil evaded. Occasionally, the Hyperion interfered—attempting to flank Virgil and shoot him with a submachine gun.

Guess he got tired of being the only one getting shot at.

Virgil evaded each burst, returning fire whenever the Hyperion grew too close. Eventually the Hyperion wisened—changing tactics and firing from range. The Hyperion strafed and circled Virgil, keeping him occupied with suppressive fire. At the same time, the Titan rushed in—attempting to bulldoze him each time.

Eventually the Titan scored a lucky hit—a glancing blow that Virgil failed to dodge. The punch was like a freight train, knocking the air out of his lungs. A follow-up slam drove him into a wall. Virgil crumpled, and the Titan loomed overhead triumphantly.

"Got you."

Virgil smirked and fired the Temporal Round imbued Colt round stored within his Peacemaker.

"Think again."

Time froze for the Titan, allowing Virgil a moment's reprieve. Rising unsteadily to his feet, Virgil dashed away—evading the Hyperion's submachine gun. As time resumed, the Titan swung wildly—bellowing in anger.

Virgil kept running—leaping over a pile of rubble and springboarding off a wall.

Whenever the Hyperion reloaded or recovered, Virgil would fire a Bullet Bond and tag him—connecting the duo, and allowing Virgil to punish them both.

Round and round they went.

Virgil toyed with the duo—waiting for an opening. An error. An opportunity. Whenever the Hyperion strayed too far, Virgil would clip him. Whenever the Titan overextended, Virgil would wound him. Back and forth, a tug-of-war dragged on—each participant searching for an advantage.

Finally—Virgil saw his chance.

The Hyperion dashed too far. Virgil tagged him. The Titan charged recklessly. Virgil fired. Bullet Bond. Phantom Shot. Direct hit. Temporal Round. Freeze.

"End of the line." Virgil stalked forward. Gun raised. Two pulls of the trigger. Bang. Bang. Boom.

Bleeding profusely from their shared wounds, the Hyperion and the Titan lay on the floor. Virgil stood above them—peering down coldly. Neither struggled. Both were badly wounded—blood pooling beneath their fallen forms. Virgil had no doubt a few shots incapacitated the Hyperion permanently.

Now came the question of the Titan. Should he risk taking him prisoner? The Adrenomancer's thickened epidermis prevented further damage.

If Edith needed to dissect an Adrenomancer to get her data, the Titan wasn't an option. He was too durable. Too resilient. Even if Virgil tranquilized him and transported him unconscious, the serum's enhancement would likely metabolize the sedative and restore his consciousness.

That left the Hyperion.

Virgil knelt by the Titan's fallen form and plunged the barrel of his Colt revolver into the large Adrenomancer's mouth. Using the tip of the barrel, Virgil pried the Titan's clenched teeth open and locked the hammer of his Peacemaker with his thumb.

An amber glow manifested around the barrel as Virgil imbued the cylinder with a Searing Brand. The Titan squirmed, his eyes widening. Virgil pressed the barrel deeper, jamming the weapon further into his target's throat. Satisfied with his placement, Virgil squeezed the trigger.

"Night-night."

A blinding flash erupted—white-hot tongues of golden flame seared the Titan's oral cavity and burnt his flesh. Virgil watched dispassionately as the Adrenomancer writhed and twitched, his mouth blackening and sizzling. Within seconds, the Titan's struggles weakened. Seconds more—and his chest ceased its rise and fall.

Virgil rose to his feet and strode towards the Hyperion.

"Now—to deal with you." Virgil nudged the Hyperion's limp body with a boot. The Adrenomancer responded weakly—glazed eyes cracking open.

"Fuck...you," the Hyperion wheezed. "Do it. Shoot me."

Virgil did not oblige. Not immediately. Instead—he crouched. Leaning in. Face to face.

"Sorry pal," Virgil mocked. "I ain't the one pulling the trigger. Doc's orders."

"Wha...?"

Virgil didn't explain.

"Don't worry. You won't suffer long." He raised his fist and slammed it into the Hyperion's skull.

Hard.

Unconscious.

Virgil collected his prize and whistled a tune.

Mission accomplished.