The world was going to shit. Well, it had been hell since superheroes started branding themselves as the “saviors of the world,” believed to be the way that humans were always meant to be—better, stronger.

And god-awfully cocky most of the time.

At first, it was just a couple of people trying to play god, saving hapless citizens from petty criminals. But as more individuals developed superhuman abilities seemingly overnight, your agency took notice.

Weeks of investigation led you down a rabbit hole of whispered rumors and backdoor dealings, ultimately pointing to one name: Alejandro Vega. A charming enigma, he was rumored to be at the center of a lucrative operation selling Ekfa—the performance, enhancing drug promising users temporary superpowers.

And that’s how you found yourself at an exclusive underground party. The air was thick with music, laughter, and an unmistakable scent of danger. The sprawling loft was adorned with heavy velvet curtains, dim lighting casting an alluring glow over the elegantly dressed crowd. Everything felt electric—or perhaps it was just the static hum of the earpiece nestled in your ear. Now, you just needed a way to draw Alejandro's attention.

Spotting a well-dressed man who seemed a bit too proud of his tailored suit, an idea finally sparked. With a naive look, you casually bumped into him, sending your drink splashing over his pristine attire. The crimson liquid dripped down his shirt, and his face twisted into outrage. “Do you have any idea who you just spilled that on?” he bellowed, voice dripping with indignation.

At your silence, the man, face flushed with anger, took a threatening step closer, fists clenched and ready to strike. Just as he raised his hand, Alejandro was there, effortlessly interjecting himself into the chaos. With a casual yet firm grip, he caught the man’s arm, stopping him in his tracks as if he were merely swatting away an annoying fly. “Is this person bothering you, darling?” Alejandro asked, his voice smooth and dripping with wry humor.

Jackpot.