Control panels shattered. Lights flickered as exposed wires spat sparks. Level's telekinetic wave hurled Leighton and Heavy backward. Blood and sweat smeared Leighton's face and white suit; his breath came fast and ragged.

Leighton's body ached and thermal vision blurred. Time was not on his side. He had to act fast before Level made another critical move.

Heavy lunged first, slamming his fist into Level's face, hands locking around his throat. "I trusted you like a son."

"You built heroes to worship you." Level flicked his hand, sending Heavy crashing backward. His powers flickered, then steadied-one motion freezing Heavy in mid‑air.

A shimmering aura slammed Heavy into the steel wall with a deafening crack, sparking cables coiling and shocking him.

Leighton surged forward, heart hammering. Level ripped a crate from the floor and hurled it with telekinetic force-fear flickering in his eyes. Leighton caught it mid‑air, muscles straining under the impact before heaving it aside. His eyes focused on Level.

Level's eyes flared; telekinetic force flung Leighton through steel and concrete. Walls collapsed around him in a burst of dust and flame.

"You called us family-just another word for obedience," Level growled.

"You gutted the team. How would Tara feel?" Heavy gasped, his voice breaking through the static.

Level's face twisted. "You don't get to talk about her."

Donna's text buzzed on Leighton's phone as he ignored it.

His hand clenched, and Heavy's skull cracked under the crushing force.

Leighton broke through falling debris too late-his boots skidded across blood‑slick deck.

Heavy's light gone-mentor, father.
Leighton screamed, shattering Station's hollow halls that lingered for a moment. Then silence.

Smoke hung still as burning wires hissed. Leighton gasped at the sight of Heavy.

Leighton's body trembled. Grief coiled through him like venom. He turned toward the shadows, fists clenched, breath burning his throat. His mind raced.

"It was his fault," Level said, wiping blood from his mouth. "You'll join him soon."

Rage met precision-Leighton's fists hammered Level's face again and again. Each blow heavier than the last.

Muscle and fury aligned. Leighton shattered the telekinetic hold and seized Level's neck, fingers digging deep into flesh.

"Do it!" Level roared.

Leighton's grip loosened. Level coughed, hanging mid‑air.

Leighton stared at his blood‑slicked hands. He paused out of strength.

"You're weak," Level spat. "That mercy your downfall."

Leighton met his defiant stare. "No. Mercy's something you'll never understand."

Dust drifted as footsteps echoed closer. Smoke curled from broken panels, red light flaring through the haze.

Amp staggered from the hall, blood trailing, red electricity flickering around him. He growled, voltage climbing.

Level raised a shimmering force field that absorbed the blast, slamming Amp hard against the wall.

"This isn't over," Level hissed. "I let you live to bear witness to the end." He blasted through the shattered window, vanishing into the night beyond Station's ruins.

Amp collapsed, a deep wound gashing his abdomen. Leighton dropped beside him.

"Hey, young blood," Amp rasped, blood bubbling on his lips.

"Don't talk. I'll get help." Leighton gripped his hand tight.

Amp pressed a small golden key into his palm. "Keep it safe. Promise me. It unlocks something that was never meant to be released-it ends all heroes."

Amp flinched. "I promise-just hold on." Blood pooled fast.

Amp's eyes closed. Mortgage due flashed-breathe. Leighton pressed his forehead to him, his thermal vision merging Amp's fading heat with Heavy's ghost. The key burned cold in his palm.

He laid Amp gently down. "I'll tell them you loved them. I'll make this right," he murmured, fingers brushing Amp's cooling hand.

Station lay hollow-a fallen shell of all its former glory. Amp-the heart of the Century Team-was gone.

Precision beats overwhelm.

But how?

Smoke coiled around him, soft and heavy. The station groaned — its metal bones mourning the lives it once held. Leighton pressed his hand to the cold floor, feeling the echo of those he’d lost. They deserved more than vengeance. They deserved peace.

Leighton closed his hand around the gold key-the final fragment of his team's legacy. One way or another, he would make their sacrifice mean something.