Frost jumped off the balcony ledge, landing smoothly astride the heavy machine. The anti-gravity thrusters hummed to life, kicking up a gentle breeze.

She looked at him one last time, revving the silent engine. "See you later, Jayden. And hey—don’t forget to watch that IT movie we talked about. And when you do... try not to shit your pants."

With a final, teasing salute, she ripped the throttle. The hoverbike shot straight up into the night sky, disappearing into the clouds without a sound.

Jayden stood on the balcony, watching the empty space where she had been. He let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head with an amused smile.

"Worth a shot," he muttered to himself, turning around and stepping back into his bedroom.

......

Meanwhile in another solar system light years away.....

Messier 81,

Bode’s Galaxy

Sandtown, Planet Geneva.

Far across the galaxy, entirely removed from the neon-lit streets of Earth, sat an estate of unimaginable opulence and terrifying power. The mansion was a sprawling fortress of white marble, black steel, and reinforced glass, perched atop a massive, sun-scorched cliff overlooking the sprawling, lawless metropolis of Sandtown. It was exactly what one would expect from a man who held the lives of millions in the palm of his hand.

Inside the mansion, insulated by soundproof, blast-resistant walls, was the private study.

The room was vast and impeccably designed, smelling of old leather, aged whiskey, and expensive tobacco. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the mahogany walls, holding ancient, leather-bound tomes that had likely been stolen from royal archives.

Standing by the massive, panoramic window looking out over the glittering desert city was a man in his late thirties. He was elegantly dressed in perfectly tailored dark trousers and a crisp, open-collared burgundy shirt under a sleek, fitted jacket. His brown hair was neatly combed, slicked back with meticulous care. But it was his features that demanded absolute terror. His eyes were a piercing, unnatural, luminescent red. And winding its way up the side of his neck, the body disappearing beneath the collar of his expensive shirt, was a dark, venomous tattoo of a serpent’s head.

He stood in complete silence, a thick, hand-rolled cigar clamped between his teeth, blowing slow, deliberate rings of smoke against the glass.

He was enjoying the silence of the room and comfort of his cigar when a heavy knock suddenly echoed from the study doors.

"Come in," the man ordered. His voice was deep, a rumbling baritone coated in a smooth Latino accent.

The heavy oak doors creaked open. A tall, burly man with a shaved head and a heavily scarred face stepped into the room. He wore a tailored suit that strained against his massive, muscular frame.

"Boss," the bald man said, bowing his head respectfully. "You sent for me."

The man by the window took another slow, rhythmic puff of his cigar. He didn’t turn around to face his subordinate. He kept his red eyes fixed on the city below.

"Is it true?" the boss asked quietly.

The burly man swallowed hard, clearly intimidated by the stillness of the room. "Yes, Boss. Frost is dead. Killed by that masked vigilante on Earth."

The man by the window exhaled a long, sharp plume of grey smoke. "And the body?" he asked.

"We... we haven’t found her body yet, sir," the bald man admitted nervously.

The boss let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated the glass panes. "Perhaps she isn’t dead after all." he muttered.

"But, Boss," the burly man argued cautiously, "there was footage. Broadcasted across the global networks. He stabbed her right through the chest and dumped her in the water."

"Frost is very hard to kill," the boss countered smoothly, tapping the ash from his cigar onto the marble windowsill. "And as long as there is no body, then there is no definitive proof that she is dead. Smoke and mirrors are a currency we know all too well."

The boss finally turned around. His red eyes bore into the burly man with the crushing weight of a predator cornering its prey.

"But that is not the issue at hand," the boss continued, walking slowly toward his massive mahogany desk. "If Frost is alive, she will eventually come back to us. She has nowhere else to go. Right now, we have a much more pressing problem. We need to find a way to permanently eliminate this masked vigilante who has taken it upon himself to come after us."

"You don’t have to worry, Boss," the burly man said, puffing his chest out. "We’ll get him. We’ll set a trap, lure him out into the open, and get rid of him for good."

The boss scoffed, a terrifying, condescending sneer curling his lips. "Lure him out? Wasn’t that the same thing Tazer did? He lured the vigilante out and engaged him on his own terms. And where did that get him?" The boss slammed his hand onto the desk, his red eyes flaring. "It led him to his grave!"

The burly man flinched, utterly speechless.

The boss straightened his jacket, taking a deep, calming drag from his cigar. "For a single person to have managed to track down and kill three of my top Pioneers, he is no ordinary street-level thug. He either has a highly powerful background with incredibly wealthy people backing him... or he is an ordinary person armed with nothing but his raw power and an unbreakable will."

The boss paced behind his desk, the smoke trailing behind him like a phantom. "Defeating someone like that will take far more than mere firepower. To destroy a man like this... we have to destroy his will, first. Only then can we destroy his body."

The boss stopped, pointing the glowing tip of his cigar directly at the bald enforcer.

"Get everything you can on this masked vigilante. I want to know exactly who he is. I want to know the face hiding underneath that mask."

"As you wish, Boss," the burly man said quickly, bowing deeply before turning and practically fleeing from the room.

The heavy doors clicked shut and the room was silent once more.

The boss turned back to face the panoramic window, his reflection ghostly in the glass against the backdrop of the desert city. He took one final, long puff of his cigar, a cruel, predatory smirk spreading across his face.

"Whoever you are," the boss whispered to the empty room, his red eyes glowing with the promise of absolute devastation. "I will find you. And I will destroy everything you hold dear. It is just a matter of time."