Mila Torres woke up at 6:00 AM. For the first time in eight years, she hadn't set an alarm. She hadn't needed one. She had slept for a solid four hours, a deep, dreamless, and profoundly peaceful sleep, curled in her bed with the windows open, the city lights painting her room.
She had kissed a "monster." She had given her heart to a telepathic, philanthropic king. And she had never felt more sane.
Her world, once a rigid, black-and-white grid of laws and procedures, had collapsed. In its place was a new, vibrant, and terrifying reality. Vicky wasn't just an anomaly; he was an answer. He was the answer to every corrupt politician, every high-paid lawyer who got a guilty man freed, and every time she'd had to let a victim's family know that "justice" would be a plea deal for manslaughter.
Vicky's system was simple. The guilty were punished. The innocent were protected. The broken were fixed.
She was done with her old life.
She got up, showered, and bypassed her usual rack of severe, professional pantsuits. Instead, she put on a simple pair of dark jeans, a white silk blouse, and the leather jacket she usually only wore on weekends. She looked in the mirror. She didn't see a detective. She saw Mila.
She put her badge, her service weapon, and her VCPD credentials in a simple cardboard box.
The Resignation,
She walked into the 12th Precinct at 8:00 AM, bypassing her desk and walking straight to Captain Hayes's office. He was already there, nursing a coffee and scowling at a stack of files.
"Torres," he grunted without looking up. "What now? Another 'Red Flash' theory? A ghost story? I'm busy."
Mila placed the cardboard box on his desk with a quiet, final thud.
Hayes finally looked up. He saw the box. He saw her clothes. He saw her face—calm, clear, and devoid of the frustrated anger he was used to. She looked... peaceful. It unnerved him.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice wary.
"That," Mila said, "is my resignation. Effective immediately."
Hayes's eyes widened. He sat back, stunned. "You're... what? You're quitting? You're the best detective I have, Torres! You're throwing away your career over... what? Because I benched you? Because of that billionaire kid?"
"I'm quitting," Mila said, her voice even, "because you're right. I can't do my job. You told me to stop chasing ghosts, but the truth is, I've just been put in charge of them."
Hayes stood up, his face turning red. "You're throwing your life away! You're making a mistake, Torres. A big one."
"No, Captain," Mila said, giving him a small, sad smile. "For the first time in my life, I'm absolutely certain I'm not."
She turned and walked out of his office. She didn't stop at her desk. She didn't say goodbye to her old partner, Frank. She just walked, past the ringing phones, past the suspects in cuffs, and past the broken system she had tried so hard to fix.
She stepped out onto the front steps of the precinct, into the bright, morning sunlight. She felt a profound, exhilarating sense of freedom.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a new text, from an unlisted number.
(VICKY): I felt that. It was brave.
(VICKY): A car is waiting for you at the corner. It's time to see The Vault.
Mila looked up. A black, impossibly sleek sedan was idling at the curb. She smiled, put her phone away, and walked down the steps to begin her new life. She was no longer a detective, bound by the law.
She was the Queen, bound only to the King.
STATUS UPDATE
(No combat or XP gain in this chapter. Status is identical to the end of Chapter 25.)
VICKY THORNE: STATUS
Level: 12
XP: 2,100 / 8,400 (To Lvl 13)
Stat Points Available: 3
STR: 17
SPD: 16
END: 16
Chi: 10 / 10