[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/XV1PIyT.jpg?2[/img][/center]

I shift uneasily while I walk next to Doctor Kafka and two of her colleagues through the halls of Stryker's Island Prison, the mirror opposite of Ravencroft Institute. The dark grey stone of the prison looms around me like a living shadow, trying to suffocate the light from the world. Vertical and horizontal bars break up the sold rock, giving me a window into what it's really like in prison. I don't feel pitty for the people I know deserve to be here, but I know at least a portion of the eyes staring at us as we traverse the cell blocks should not be here. It's one of the few injustices I'm probably not able to solve, and that tugs at me.

[color=fdc68a]"You can see how terrible this environment is for rehabilitation,"[/color] Dr. Kafka waves her hand dismissively at the surroundings. [color=fdc68a]"Punitive, barbaric containment is no trail to teaching the criminal there is a better way. It ingrains their desire to lash out. Creates career criminals or men and women too bitter to restart their lives after they're released."[/color]

I consider her words before responding, [color=ec008c]"But some people can't be rehabilitated, right? Someone like Max Dillon, or career criminals aren't going to change their mind if they're treated nicely?"[/color]

[color=fdc68a]"No, of course not,"[/color] she agrees. [color=fdc68a]"Some men just want to watch the world burn. But that is such an insignificant sector of the prison population. The fact that we thrown so many into places like this is a failure of our society. One I hope to one day eliminate."[/color]

[color=ec008c]"More power to you, Doc,"[/color] I respond with a smile. Yea, I am definitely gonna like working for this woman. What would be an obnoxious screed to most makes my little, counter culture heart flutter. [color=ec008c]"What's your read on Firefly?"[/color]

[color=fdc68a]"Please, Gwen, his name is Garfield Lynns,"[/color] she becomes visibly upset at the use of the super villain's name. [color=fdc68a]"I will allow no mention of that other moniker when dealing with him. Aliases contribute to delusions of grandeur. It ensures the patient will continue to see themselves as a conqueror instead of a human. When they elevate themselves above the general populace, they cannot see how their actions affect them."[/color]

It makes sense, sure. If Lynns seems himself as "The Firefly, Bringer of Cleansing Fire", he's not really going to consider himself human.

We're escorted to an area with a Plexiglas cell in the center. Inside, sits Garfield Lynns. The man is small, almost frail-looking outside of the contraption he used to fly and without the flamethrower he was brandishing the other day. His rail-thin form is lost in the orange prison jumpsuit he's adorned in. The burns on his face are highlighted by the harsh color, and wisps of remaining, blond hair sit on his head like they were dropped there. His eyes, cold and barely lifeless stare out in front of him.

[color=fdc68a]"Gwen,"[/color] Doctor Kafka looks down to me, [color=fdc68a]"please stay here. I will speak with Mister Lynns. I want you to observe. Take notes. See what you can tell from him. We can compare notes later."[/color]

I merely nod as she heads over and enters the cell. The man is shackled to the table, something she clearly does not approve of as her face puckers at the sight of them.

[color=fdc68a]"Mister Lynns,"[/color] she announces her presence to the arsonist, who seems to be pulled out of a trance by the words. His eyes snap up to the doctor, still with a thousand yard stare. [color=fdc68a]"My name is Doctor Ashley Kafka. I'm here to talk to you."[/color]

[color=ed1c24][b]"You hear to tell me I'm crazy, doc?"[/b][/color] Lynns smiles at her, the grafted skin on his face stretching like wax dripping off a candle. [color=ed1c24][b]"Because I can save you some time. US Marine Corps. Two tours. Where I got my good looks. None of that PTSD bullshit. Maybe some disillusionment, but nothing compared to when I got back and saw that the country had lost its damn mind. Worshipping freaks in capes like they're gods."[/b][/color]

[color=fdc68a]"So the advent of superhumans made you angry?"[/color]

A snort of derisive laughter escapes, [color=ed1c24][b]"I don't give a crap about them. What I care about is the people of this country treating them like they're some divine saviors. They're not. They're causing us to lose our way. And I want to make sure the people see them for what they really are."[/b][/color]

[color=fdc68a]"And what's that?"[/color]

[color=ed1c24][b]"People. Mortals. If you make God bleed, and all that."[/b][/color]

[color=fdc68a]"So you want to show people there is no reason to put the so-called superheroes on a pedestal?"[/color]

[color=ed1c24][b]"Exactly. Show them that there is only one god,"[/b][/color] he sneers. [color=ed1c24][b]"And he doesn't wear a cape."[/b][/color]

[center]**********[/center]

In a dimly lit, backalley bar, the leaders of the Yakuza and China Triad meet in a rare show of truce. While the Kingpin tends to keep the peace in the city, the Triad and Yakuza work under him reluctantly. They prefer to rip each others' heads off in the streets to let the stronger of the two stand victorious and exhaulted. Instead they have an uneasy partnership in the the streets of New York. If pressed, both leaders will admit the agreement is beneficial, but the men on the streets still thirst for a confrontation.

Three members of each gang are the only patrons. Behind the bar, a fat barkeep stands, his shirt barely holding against his gut like a dam against a flood. 

"Well," Shigeru, the leader of the Yakuza leans back, sipping on a beer, "why have we been called to this little meeting?"

The air around the assembled groups is thick with dust and the stench of stale beer. Their Italian shoes stick slightly to the dirty floor, but none of them would ever think to wear anything else.

"Why were you called?" Tzu, the head of the Triad, scoffs back. "You were the ones who contacted us."

"Impossible," the Yakuza leader shakes his head. "And if neither of us nor the Kingpin called the meeting, then who did?"

[color=92278f][b]"I did,"[/b][/color] a voice announces from behind the bar. Each leader's bodyguards spring in front of their charges, ready to take on its owner. From the back room steps a large man, dressed in black from head to toe, with a high white collar and a black mask with a white spider emblazoned on it. [color=92278f][b]"I am the Black Tarantula. Perhaps you have heard of me."[/b][/color]

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ovnhW47.jpg[/img][/center]

"The one who has been fighting the Maggia," Tzu nods. "You have been a thorn in our organization's side for some time now. Give me a reason why I shouldn't have my men remove your head from your body."

[color=92278f][b]"You are more than welcome to let them try,"[/b][/color] he presents himself to the men.

With a motion from both the Asian mob bosses, their guards rush at Black Tarantula while the pudgy barman runs from the scene.

The first man to reach the Tarantula is grabbed by the throat and slammed down into the bar by the South American crimelord with such force that the solid wood exploded into splinters. The second man throws a kick, which is ducked at astonishing speed, before he is punched with such force he is thrown through the air, crashing through the table the bosses are sitting at. The third makes the mistake of getting too close, receiving a devastating elbow to the side of his head, caving it in and sending him to the ground in a heap. The fourth, rather than tempt fate, retreats, leaving one of the Triad guards alive.

[color=92278f][b]"Smart,"[/b][/color] the Tarantula laughs softly. 

"What are you," the Shigeru recoils at the display.

[color=92278f][b]"I have become more,"[/b][/color] he responds, crossing his arms. [color=92278f][b]"And I come with an offer. Join me. Overthrow the Kingpin. Become the kings of the city. You are treated as second class in his organization because, like us, you are outsiders in this land. He fears what you are able to do. While I treasure your skills. All me to help you achieve your deserved place in the sun."[/b][/color]

"We accept," Tzu replies quickly. "For too long we have not gotten our dues. It is time that changed."

"Have you no honor?" Shigeru shoots back.

"There is no honor among thieves, my friend," Tzu smiles.

[color=92278f][b]"Good,"[/b][/color] Black Tarantula turns to leave. [color=92278f][b]"Kill him, and we shall get started."[/b][/color]

[center]**********[/center]

[color=ec008c]"He wasn't working alone,"[/color] I shake my head as Dad and I sit down to dinner. [color=ec008c]"That's for sure. He's a marine grunt. Doesn't have the means to get tech like that."[/color]

[color=7bcdc8]"That's cop thinking,"[/color] he points out.

[color=ec008c]"That's exactly what Dr. Kafka said."[/color]

He scoops a helping of mac and cheese onto my plate, [color=7bcdc8]"And what was her diagnosis?"[/color]

[color=ec008c]"Basically? That he had a tenuous grasp on reality, and the emergence of superheroes pushed him to where he thought his actions were necessary. It makes sense, but it's ignoring his enablers."[/color]

[color=7bcdc8]"You may be right,"[/color] he shrugs. [color=7bcdc8]"But that's not your job as a doctor. You need to see what's wrong with him, and try your best to fix it."[/color]

I nod and push my food around my plate, [color=ec008c]"I know. But I guess I'm gonna have to try and forget about all that cop stuff someone pounded into my head."[/color]

[color=7bcdc8]"Hey, guilty as charged."[/color]

Our relationship is starting to mend after our fight about his new position. I think he took it as a sign, and isn't spending every night at the precinct every night. I also haven't run into him on patrol since the night with the Enforcers, which helps. I think he was really embarrassed by the web grenades, and it set him off for a while.

But I think I'm going to need some help tracking down the Firefly's tech supplier. 

And that means talking to DeWolff.