6. P R O D I G A L : Redemption

EPILOGUE

2024

Jinshu District.

A group of men in baboon masks guarded the alley exit while a bruiser took some brass knuckles to an unlucky gambler's gut. The man wheezed and fell onto his side, gasping for breath.

The bruiser knelt down, putting his brass knuckles against the man's face and pressing down hard enough to make the man scream. "You told us you could pay it back," the bruiser said in a guttural voice. "So where is it? Where's our money?"

"I'll get it to you! I promise!" the man shrieked. "Just give me a little more time—"

"You're out of time, Yang," the bruiser snarled. "This time, your payment will be in blood." He reeled back, preparing to smash the man's head into the ground.

Suddenly, a figure dressed in horrifyingly-familiar white armor dropped into the midst of the masked men.

The men gasped, startled, and stumbled backward. "It's the Phantom!" one of them cried.

The Phantom said nothing in reply; instead, he lunged forward and struck the man who'd spoken in the chest and face several times, knocking him out in less than three seconds. Without even watching the man fall, he turned to the bruiser and swept his legs out from underneath him before catching him by the leg and swinging him in a wide circle.

The masked men jumped out of the way, trying to avoid being hit. That didn't seem to be the Phantom's intention, however, because he stopped the bruiser's momentum by slamming him into the side of one of the buildings.

Regaining their composure, the masked men took out their weapons and opened fire on the Phantom, their bullets pinging off his armor.

The Phantom shielded his face and retreated, forced backward by the fire.

Then another figure in white armor dropped from above, swinging a jian sword in a wide arc and slicing off the muzzle of four weapons.

The masked men let out surprised shouts as their weapons exploded. The others continued to fire, but the new figure wreathed her metal wings around herself, deflecting the bullets back into the men. Being bulletproof themselves, the bullets did no damage, but drove them back. "Argh! It's the Angel!" one of them spat.

The Angel spread out her wings again. "Well, Phantom?" she said in a stately British accent. "Shall we split?"

"We shall," Phantom replied in his warped, modified voice.

With that, each of them took on six of the dozen masked men who remained, holding their own with ease and dealing enough damage to incapacitate them.

-

Finally, after a long drawn-out fight, all of the masked men were down. The Phantom and Angel were slightly winded, but not so much so that they felt exhausted. "Another day, another victory," the Phantom stated, putting his hands on his hips.

"A battle won. Not the war." The Angel sheathed her sword. "I don't like this, Phantom. We're making dents but not dealing any real damage." She gestured to the masked men, who were slowly vanishing into thin air. "No evidence of wrongdoing—no basis to convict. We might've won, but we still failed."

"And what about him, huh?" The Phantom gestured to the man who lay shivering on the ground. "He's still alive because we stepped in. That's not a failure."

"Maybe not. But in the grand scheme of things—"

The Angel stopped, and both she and the Phantom whirled around as someone clucked their tongue behind them. "You always come so close, don't you?" a sickeningly-familiar voice said with a chuckle.