Chapter 49: The Mark of a Survivor

Pov: Third person

Date: Y3, M8

Isaac Sato, still operating under the alias Isaac Solo, lounged in his high-rise quarters overlooking the sprawling chaos of Promethea.

Neon lights from the corporate towers reflected in the window, casting vibrant patterns across the room as the city pulsed below. But for Isaac, that chaos wasn't random—it was a carefully orchestrated performance. The rise of his hidden gang, 88 Mafia, was taking shape. No one saw it coming. Not yet.

He leaned back, grinning at the thought. His fingers tapped a rhythm on the armrest as he spoke aloud. "You know, ECHO, Promethea's starting to feel a lot like a futuristic Gotham. We just need a Batman and a Joker, and this place is set."

His personal AI assistant, ECHO, responded with its typical monotone. "I do not possess records on 'Gotham,' Captain. Another one of your Earth-based cultural references, I presume? There's planet doesn't exist in any record, past or present."

Isaac chuckled, shaking his head. "Yep. One day you'll catch up, Echo. One day."

Despite the playful banter, Isaac's mind was always running at full speed. He wasn't just a captain in the notorious Silver Fangs gang; he was playing a deeper, far more dangerous game. 88 Mafia, his growing shell gang, was making moves across Promethea's criminal underworld, taking down key figures from rival gangs. His subordinates, hidden within the Silver Fangs and other factions, were perfectly positioned, quietly expanding his influence while Isaac maintained the façade of a charismatic, carefree captain.

As far as the Silver Fangs knew, Isaac Solo was their rising star—charming, efficient, and dangerously witty. And most of them adored him for it. But Silver Selena, the cunning leader of the Silver Fangs, wasn't so easily swayed.

She was sharp—sharp enough to see through the smoke and mirrors Isaac had carefully laid out. Selena ruled Promethea's underworld with an iron grip, her name synonymous with fear and power. She hadn't gained the title of "Silver" for nothing; her control was as merciless as it was absolute, and while she tolerated Isaac's growing popularity, she didn't trust it. She didn't trust him.

"Speaking of which," Isaac muttered, stretching lazily before standing, "How's our little side project going? The Dusters should be out of commission by now. I assume everything's rolling smoother than a one-take Tarantino flick?"

ECHO responded with efficiency. "All operations are proceeding as planned. Key targets within the Dusters and the Remnants have been neutralized. Your hidden subordinates are already securing the territories under the banner of the 88 mafia. The Silver Fangs remain unaware."

"Good, good," Isaac said, his grin widening as he holstered his customized energy pistols. "I love it when a plan comes together."

He knew it wouldn't be long before Selena's suspicions would grow into something more than just an itch. She already kept an eye on him, and while most of the other captains in the gang laughed at his jokes and toasted his victories, **Silver Selena** was different. Cold. Calculating. And if she ever found out what he was really up to, well... Isaac wasn't planning on letting it get that far.

The familiar buzz of the door broke his thoughts, and Isaac didn't need to check the camera to know who it was. Right on time, as always.

The door slid open with a hiss, and **Silver Selena** strode in, her presence dominating the room without a word. Tall and imposing, with long silver hair cascading down her back, she looked every bit the predator she was. Her metallic eyes scanned the room before settling on Isaac, her expression as unreadable as ever.

"Captain Solo," Selena said, her voice as sharp and cool as polished steel. "Another flawless operation, I'm told."

Isaac leaned casually against the desk, giving her his trademark grin. "Well, what can I say? When you're this good, you make it look easy. You ever see Ocean's Eleven? You know, the part where Clooney—ah, never mind. We're winning, boss."

Selena's eyes narrowed. She stepped further into the room, her movements as controlled and deliberate as ever. "You're becoming quite popular, Captain. The people seem to love you. But popularity can be... dangerous."

Isaac feigned a thoughtful expression, tapping his chin. "Is that so? I always thought a little charisma went a long way. Keeps the morale high, makes people trust me. And hey, trust is a powerful weapon, right?"

Selena didn't bite. She crossed her arms, studying him with those unnerving silver eyes. "Trust can also lead to overconfidence. And overconfidence can be fatal."

Isaac smirked. "Lucky for you, I'm not the fatal type. Just a charming rogue trying to keep things fun."

"That's what worries me," Selena replied, her voice colder than ever. "You're too... unpredictable. Too much of a wildcard. Wildcards burn out quickly, Solo."

For the briefest of moments, the tension in the room became palpable. Isaac knew exactly what she was doing—testing him, trying to find the crack in his armour. But Isaac Solo didn't crack. Not yet.

He shrugged casually, his grin never fading. "Don't worry, Silver. I'm not burning out anytime soon. Besides, the Silver Fangs need a little unpredictability, don't you think? Gotta keep our enemies on their toes."

Selena's eyes flicked toward the window, where the neon lights of Promethea stretched out like veins across the city. "Make sure it's the enemies who are kept on their toes... and not us."

Isaac met her gaze, unflinching. "Wouldn't have it any other way, boss."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. It was a silent battle of wills, and while Selena's expression remained cold and impassive, Isaac knew she wasn't done watching him. She turned sharply and made her way toward the door, her parting words cutting through the air like a blade.

"I'm watching you, Captain Solo. Don't forget that."

The door slid shut behind her, leaving Isaac standing alone in the dimly lit room. His smile faded slightly as he muttered, "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it."

"Captain," ECHO chimed in. "Shall I initiate Phase Two of Operation Misdirection? Silver Selena's suspicions will likely escalate soon."

Isaac's smirk returned as he crossed the room and stood by the window, watching the city pulse beneath him. "Absolutely. Let's get this party started. Time to light up Promethea. Hit them hard, hit them fast. The Remnants will never know what hit 'em, and the Silver Fangs will be too busy celebrating to notice what's slipping through their fingers."

"And Selena?" ECHO asked, ever the practical AI.

Isaac's eyes gleamed. "We'll deal with her... when the time's right."

As ECHO began coordinating the next series of strikes through his hidden network, Isaac couldn't help but chuckle. Promethea was a city built on power plays, and no one played the game better than Isaac Solo. Underneath the smiles and jokes, a storm was brewing. And soon, when everything fell into place, he would emerge as the true power behind the scenes.

For now, though, he still had a part to play. The charming captain. The unpredictable wildcard. And maybe, just maybe, the man who would take down Silver Selena herself.

"Hey, ECHO," Isaac said suddenly, his grin widening. "You ever heard of The Godfather? 'Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer?'"

ECHO's response was as confused as ever. "I do not understand that reference, Captain."

Isaac chuckled. "Yeah, you wouldn't. But trust me—this city? This whole gang? I'm just getting started. Boss'll be real happy I tell yah."

Continuing his little chuckle he felt a buzz alert his phone, the boss was calling; and when the boss called you answered. He'd need to leave. 

Exiting their hideout, he entered the streets of Promethai with his head held high, invincible. Yet halfway through his walk he passed an ally. It was then of all of sudden he heard loud steps grow nearer. 

Isaac turned casually at the sound of the young girl's voice, his signature smirk still playing on his lips. The neon lights flickered overhead, casting a greenish hue on the worn streets of Promethea.

There she was—a teenager, no older than sixteen, standing with a gun aimed directly at his chest. She was trying to look tough, but Isaac could see the desperation in her sharp eyes, the tremor in her grip.

"Oi! I said hand over everything!" she repeated, her voice firming, though the slight shake betrayed her nerves.

Isaac raised his hands mockingly, a playful grin spreading wider across his face. "Everything, huh? Well, that's gonna be a problem. Y'see, I left my good manners and all my valuables in my other jacket." He took a slow step toward her, unfazed by the barrel of the gun trained on him. "But hey, points for trying."

The girl's grip tightened on the gun. "I'm not joking! Back off or I'll shoot!"

Isaac's grin didn't waver. "Oh, please do. I haven't been shot at in—what—at least three hours? Feels like I'm overdue."

Her eyes flickered with uncertainty as if she didn't quite know how to handle someone who didn't fear death or a bullet. She pulled the trigger. Isaac didn't flinch as the shot fired, the energy bolt hitting his chest with a loud thump.

But instead of collapsing or screaming in pain, Isaac simply looked down at his chest, then back at the girl. "Oh, ouch. That was my favourite jacket, well not like it hit it anyway."

"A shield?" She couldn't help but murmur.

Her eyes widened in disbelief as he took another step toward her, completely unharmed. The bolt hadn't even scorched the fabric of his coat much less get near him.

With a flick of his wrist, Isaac reached out, grabbed the gun from her hands in a blur of motion, and deftly removed the magazine with a quick, fluid movement. He tossed the gun back at her feet, now emptied and exploding at her feet.

"Shitty tediore... You're meant to throw the things not shoot em..." Isaac explained to the young girl, who appeared rattled at the miniature explosion. 

"Tell you what," Isaac said, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping just enough to be teasing but with a hint of seriousness. "You're either the bravest kid I've met or the dumbest. Not many people try robbing someone like me on my turf."

The girl's face flushed with anger and humiliation. "I-I didn't have a choice!"

Isaac raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the fire in her tone. "Everyone's got a choice, kid. The question is, what are you gonna do now that yours blew up in your face?"

She scowled, refusing to back down, even as fear danced behind her defiant eyes. "You gonna kill me or what?"

Isaac shook his head, his grin softening into something almost compassionate. "Nah, where's the fun in that? You've got potential—misguided, sure—but potential. What's your name?"

The girl hesitated, her tough exterior cracking just a little. "Lorelei."

"Lorelei," Isaac repeated, rolling the name over his tongue like he was tasting it for the first time. "Tell you what, Lorelei. Survive this and maybe we'll meet again. Hell, maybe I'll even have a job for you." His smile widened mischievously, but there was an edge of sincerity in his words.

Isaac stepped back, giving her a mocking salute. "I'm Isaac. Remember that name."

Lorelei blinked, confused, but before she could respond, Isaac casually walked away, his hands back in his pockets like the whole thing had been nothing more than an amusing sideshow. She stood there, staring after him, her pulse racing, her mind struggling to process what had just happened. He'd taken her shot without even blinking and then let her go like it was nothing. The entire encounter had lasted no more than a few minutes, yet something about it felt life-changing.

From the shadows of a nearby rooftop, Silver Selena watched the interaction with narrowed eyes. Isaac's unpredictable nature was both impressive and baffling. He hadn't killed the girl or punished her for the blatant attempt on his life. Instead, he'd humoured her and left her standing, alive and unharmed.

"What is your game, Isaac Solo?" Selena muttered under her breath, watching as Isaac's form disappeared into the bustling streets. She couldn't help but feel a mixture of intrigue and wariness. His actions were swift, precise, and completely outside of the usual conduct of her gang.

Selena tapped her comms, connecting with one of her lieutenants. "Keep an eye on that girl. I want to know if she survives the next few days. And keep watching Isaac..."

She leaned back against the rooftop railing, her mind racing. Isaac Solo was unpredictable, always making moves that left her questioning his true intentions. He had charmed the lower ranks of the gang effortlessly, his humour and charisma making him an easy favourite among the grunts. But to Selena, something darker simmered beneath his casual, carefree demeanour. She would figure it out—soon.

Isaac strolled away from the scene, whistling under his breath as he left Lorelei wide-eyed and gunless, her pride bruised but untouched otherwise. She stood there frozen, processing the encounter as he disappeared into the dense, crowded streets of Meridian City. Hidden from view, Selena observed the entire exchange, her expression caught somewhere between admiration and disbelief. Isaac's smooth moves, the way he defused Lorelei's attack, his calm, almost dismissive handling of the situation—it was like watching someone who'd lived several lifetimes, always coming out unscathed.

She hadn't expected "Isaac Solo" to blend into her organization so quickly, much less manage to captivate her most difficult fighters. It was no secret that her gang—The Silver Fangs—had become complacent, and Isaac, with his infuriating Earth pop culture references and charming confidence, had injected a certain fire into her people.

As he turned a corner, Isaac's communicator buzzed softly, signaling that Echo had reestablished contact.

"Finally alone," Echo whispered, her tone laced with mild irritation. "Ready for the update to Alexander?"

Isaac tapped a button on his earpiece, muttering under his breath. "Patch me through. Let's give our dear leader the latest from Promethea."

"Not sure how he'll react to your little charity case back there," Echo teased, referencing the teen he'd just spared.

Isaac grinned, remembering Lorelei's surprised expression. "Hey, a little mercy goes a long way. Besides, one day she'll realise who's really making things happen around here."

A few beats later, Alexander's holographic projection flickered to life before him, his signature power armour casting a foreboding shadow even through the holo-image.

"Isaac," Alexander's voice was as cold and authoritative as ever. "Status report."

"Ah, Boss! Always a pleasure," Isaac greeted with exaggerated enthusiasm. "The Silver Fangs are nearly singing my name these days. Got a small gang within their ranks— a mixed bag of our boys from Pandora and a new batch. They're under a random gang name I cooked, 88 mafia. That's about 11,000 strong and steadily growing. The veterans from Pandora have integrated nicely with the locals. They fit in so well, you'd think they'd been here their whole lives."

Alexander's expression was unreadable, though his intense gaze suggested he was already analyzing Isaac's every word.

"88 mafia... how many of them are from our original ranks?"

"Enough," Isaac replied, knowing Alexander appreciated efficiency. "The veterans hold most of the key positions within the 88r's. They're well-respected here and know how to keep the locals in line without stirring up suspicion."

Alexander nodded slowly. "And the other gangs?"

Isaac flashed a smirk. "Consider them… trimmed. Key figures are being eliminated as we speak. We're still small in numbers compared to some of the established groups here, but I'm turning up the pressure, Boss. With this pace, the 88r's will take control of Meridian City in two years at the latest. The Silver Fangs are getting comfortable, and they've barely noticed how tightly we're coiling around them."

Alexander's gaze darkened approvingly. "I expected nothing less. Promethea's scale is different from Pandora's. Take your time; play the long game. But if the other gangs get suspicious, ensure no evidence leads back to the Iron Legion. I don't need the attention from other corporations. Not yet."

Isaac crossed his arms, his expression softening, though his voice was tinged with a rare sincerity. "Wouldn't dream of it, Boss. It's not my first rodeo."

Alexander's image flickered slightly as he inclined his head. "And Selena?"

Isaac couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh, she's curious, alright. It's not every day someone walks into her territory, wins over her people, and then refuses to bend to her charms. I think she's watching me closer now. I can feel her, just lurking."

"Good. Keep her on edge," Alexander said, his voice as cold as steel. "Her unpredictability makes her dangerous but also an asset if used correctly."

Isaac shrugged. "I'll keep her guessing, alright. Speaking of unpredictable, I ran into a kid—tried to rob me. Tough, resourceful, reminded me of… well, me. Gave her a little scare but left her in one piece. Might come in handy down the line."

Alexander's expression didn't shift, but his silence was telling. Finally, he spoke. "Remember your purpose there, Isaac. We aren't in this to build empathy. Promethea is crucial to our expansion."

Isaac raised his hands defensively. "Hey, Boss, I know the mission. But sometimes, people like her make excellent scouts if they see the right light. Let me work my angles; I'll get results, as always."

"Then proceed as planned," Alexander commanded. "Keep me informed of any shifts. And if you need additional resources, let me know. You'll have my full support—but do not deviate from our ultimate objective."

Isaac inclined his head. "Understood, Boss. By the time I'm done here, Meridian City will be ours."

The connection cut, leaving Isaac alone once more with Echo. She reappeared on his wrist, her holographic eyebrows raised. "Nice to see you managed not to overstep this time."

Isaac winked at her. "Hey, even I know when to stay in line. But mark my words, Echo—Promethea will soon echo with our name. The 88r's won't just be a gang; it'll be the foundation of something greater."