A Celebration Cut Short

  Barry Cartwright didn’t often let himself celebrate, but tonight was an exception.

  The small Irish pub was dimly lit, filled with the warmth of laughter and the scent of whiskey and fried food. The drinks flowed freely as Barry, Detective Isaac Ford, Daphne Langley, Tyler Bishop, and a few others from Ford’s unit toasted to their courtroom victory.

  Ford, now cleared of all charges, had a rare grin on his face as he clinked his glass against Barry’s.

  “To the best damn lawyer in the city,” Ford said, smirking.

  Barry chuckled. “I’ll drink to that.”

  Daphne leaned against the bar, swirling her wine glass. “You know, Barry, if we keep winning cases like this, you’re going to need a bigger office.”

  Tyler, always full of energy, grinned. “Yeah, and a bigger bar tab, too.”

  The night carried on, full of stories, jokes, and the kind of camaraderie that came from knowing they had just won a battle—not just in court, but for the future of supers in the city.

  But victory didn’t come without a cost.

  And the price was about to be exacted.

  Daphne’s Warning

  As the group made their way out of the pub, the cool night air settling over them, Daphne suddenly gasped—her body tensing as her eyes went wide with horror.

  “DOWN!” she screamed telepathically, her voice cutting through the minds of everyone around her.

  Barry barely had time to react before the first gunshot rang out.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Without thinking, he moved.

  He lunged forward, grabbing Ford and pushing Daphne behind him just as a masked gunman emerged from the shadows, unloading a barrage of bullets in their direction.

  Barry’s body hardened instantly, shifting into reinforced titanium as the bullets struck his chest. The shots flattened against him, falling uselessly to the ground.

  The gunman cursed, realizing too late that his target wasn’t just any super—he was indestructible.

  Before the attacker could retreat, Tyler vanished in a blur of motion—the wind from his sudden movement knocking over a few trash cans as he raced off to get help.

  Ford, ever the cop, dove for cover, drawing his weapon and training it on the assailant. “Drop the gun!” he barked.

  The gunman turned to flee, but Barry surged forward, grabbing him by the arm and twisting the weapon out of his grasp. The masked man struggled, but Barry’s grip was like a steel vice.

  Ford tackled the man to the ground, pinning him in place.

  “Who sent you?” Ford growled, yanking the mask off to reveal a pale, sweating man—his eyes wild with fear and rage.

  “You… you freaks don’t belong here,” the man spat. “You think just because you saved one of your own, you’re untouchable?”

  Barry’s jaw clenched.

  The Anti-Super Movement had been growing in the city.

  Attacks were becoming more frequent.

  And now, Barry’s law firm—his entire mission to help supers navigate the legal system—had made him a target.

  As sirens echoed in the distance, Barry exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he allowed his body to shift back to a more human form.

  His suit, however, was ruined—holes burned through from where the bullets had struck. The paint on his face had been stripped away, exposing the true metallic sheen underneath.

  Daphne, stepping beside him, smirked despite the tension. “Well, there goes another expensive suit.”

  Barry sighed. “Yeah. I really liked this one.”

  Regrouping at Barry’s House

  By the time the police arrived, the situation was under control. Ford handed the gunman over, giving his statement while Barry simply shook his head.

  There was no doubt now—Barry Cartwright was on someone’s hit list.

  Which meant lying low wasn’t an option.

  That night, Daphne and Tyler came home with Barry—not because they needed a place to stay, but because Barry’s house had become a temporary safe haven for those in his circle.

  As they entered the modest home, Tyler whistled. “Man, I forget how nice this place is. Why don’t you live upstairs instead of the basement?”

  Barry smirked, setting down his ruined jacket. “Because I weigh about a ton in my normal state. Ever tried sleeping in an old house when the floorboards aren’t reinforced for a walking tank?”

  Tyler blinked. “Fair point.”

  Daphne, kicking off her heels, flopped onto Barry’s couch, running a hand through her hair. “Well, this has been one hell of a night.”

  Barry sat down across from her, rubbing his temples. “Yeah. And it’s not over. This attack wasn’t random. The Anti-Super groups are getting bolder. And now that I’m officially on their radar, it’s only a matter of time before they try again.”

  Daphne’s expression turned serious. “Then we need to start thinking ahead.”

  Barry exhaled. He knew she was right.

  Tonight had been a warning.

  And the real battle was just beginning.