Inside, Richard Thornfield's office stretched wide, wrapped in floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the HeroCorp island. The ocean wind pushed waves against the cliffs far below. Sunlight bounced off the high-rise towers scattered across the island—housing blocks, training arenas, med-labs. A whole fake paradise for manufactured heroes.
Richard sat behind a dark wooden desk, back leaned casually against a leather chair, a half-full glass of whisky in his hand. A thin trail of smoke curled from the cigar burning in the crystal ashtray. He looked relaxed. Too relaxed.
Black Mentis walked in with steady steps, his armored boots tapping lightly against the marble floor. His suit absorbed the light, mask hiding the tightening of his eyes.
"You called for me," Mentis said, voice flat, irritation leaking through. "What do you want now? I told you—I'm retired. I only intervene when it's absolutely necessary."
Richard's smirk twitched upward, the kind that always made Mentis' knuckles itch.
"Retirement," Richard said, swirling the whisky lazily, "is a luxury you can't afford. Especially not you."
He leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk, cigar smoke drifting between them like a barrier.
"You're The Top Dog. You don't get to walk away."
Mentis exhaled sharply through his nose—more annoyance than sigh.
"Just get to the point, old man."
Richard chuckled quietly, tapping ash off the cigar.
"I need you to do something for me—and who better than my most 'trusted' ally, hm?"
He raised his glass in a mock toast. "Your expertise is irreplaceable. HeroCorp needs you. I need you. Retirement is just a fantasy you tell yourself to sleep at night."
Mentis' eyes glowed faintly—not enough to light the room, just enough to warn.
His voice dropped. "Gwt to the damn point. Now."
Richard leaned back again, letting the leather creak. He looked out the window, then back at Mentis.
"Our S-Rankers—Rank 2 through 10—are departing for the Mars mission today. They won't be back for a while."
He took a slow sip of whisky before continuing.
"In their absence, we need someone to oversee the training of our top A-Rankers. Promotion tests are coming. Ember City still needs protecting."
A beat.
"And since the S-Ranks won't be here… you're the only one with enough authority—and power—to keep things from falling apart."
Mentis raised an eyebrow behind the mask. His arms crossed over his chest, stance shifting.
"So what—you want me to babysit a bunch of kids? 'Train the next generation'? Come on, Richard. You and I both know that's not the full story."
Richard smirked again—slight, calculated.
"These 'kids' climbed the ranks faster than any batch before them. They're dangerous. Talented."
Another sip. "Some of them might rival S-Rankers one day. Maybe even you."
Mentis scoffed under his breath.(Yea, right.)
Richard continued, voice steady:
"You'll train them. Keep them sharp. Keep the island and the city safe. If something big happens—something they can't handle—we'll call you in. Simple."
Mentis held his stare for a long moment. Then a slow shrug.
((Thanks for reading this chapter, if you enjoyed it, please leave a comment, I could use suggestions, feedback or ideas. If you want to support me. Then I accept red stones or gifts etc… it keeps me motivated, plus with enough support your OC could appear in future arcs just dm their info))