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The Platinum Verdict
It's Wednesday night. The city is electric with anticipation. Cameras pan across the gauntlet arena, where the elite of the world—celebrities, dignitaries, influencers—have gathered like moths to a flame. The news anchors, dressed in ceremonial black, speak with rehearsed solemnity.
"Tonight's execution is no ordinary spectacle," one anchor intones. "The condemned is responsible for the deaths of two decorated detectives—fathers, husbands, protectors. Their lives were stolen in an instant."
The other anchor chuckles darkly.
"Tom, I wouldn't want to be called that name tonight. He deserves everything coming to him."
The crowd murmurs in agreement. The stage glows with a haunting amber light, casting long shadows across the polished steel of the gauntlet. Thomas stands at the edge, flanked by armored escorts. His face is pale, eyes wide not with guilt, but with something deeper. A reckoning.
As he steps forward, the crowd erupts. Jeers. Slurs. Names meant to strip him of humanity.
The judges arrive three figures in royal robes, their faces obscured by silver veils. They take their seats with slow, deliberate grace. The executioner stands by, hand resting on the throttle of the blade mechanism. In the front row, the Supreme Ruler Light watches with serene detachment, his white robes shimmering like frost.
"Justice," Tom the anchor whispers, "is about to be served."
Thomas is placed in the gauntlet. His hands tremble. His breath catches. The blade above gleams new, sharp, merciless.
The lead judge raises his hand. Time stretches. The crowd holds its breath.
Then his hand drops.
The executioner nods. The throttle is released.
The blade begins its descent.
And then
Light.
A blinding burst of platinum erupts from the stage, swallowing the arena in radiance. Cameras short out. Screens go black. The anchors shout over static.
"We've lost visual something's happening"
The crowd shields their eyes. The light is not just bright—it's pure. It pierces through the darkest cracks of the universe, illuminating truths long buried. It is not Light's light. It is older. Wiser. Divine.
And Thomas?
He is no longer visible.
Only the glow remains.