Chapter 13: Fire on the Bay
At the Port Behind Raven Industries
Max Raven stood on the edge of the shipping yard, his polished shoes tapping lightly against the concrete as he watched the crates of chemical weapons being loaded onto a cargo ship. The cool night air was heavy with the scent of saltwater and oil, the faint hum of cranes and forklifts filling the silence. Slade Masters stood beside him, his expression calm but his eyes sharp, scanning their surroundings.
Raven's phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out with a smirk, expecting a status update.
"Talk to me," Raven said smoothly.
The voice on the other end was agitated. "Sir, we had an intruder in the main building. A masked individual in a costume. He's dressed like… a superhero."
Raven blinked, then laughed, his deep chuckle echoing across the port. "A superhero, you say? Are you serious?"
"Yes, sir," the voice continued. "He accessed your office and fled before we could catch him. We're certain he's heading for the shipping yard."
Raven's laughter grew louder. "A superhero! This city never ceases to amuse me. Take care of it. Keep him away from the shipment. Do your job." He hung up, still chuckling, and turned to Slade, his amusement obvious.
"A superhero's here," Raven mocked. "Some guy dressed like a superhero is going to save the day. Can you believe this?"
Slade's lips curled into a grin as he slid a set of brass knuckles onto his hands. The knuckles sparked to life, small electrical charges dancing across the surface. "I've been waiting to try these out," he said, his voice laced with excitement.
Raven sighed, shaking his head. "If this hero tries to interfere, handle him. And make it hurt."
Slade nodded, flexing his fingers as the sparks intensified.
Jay's Infiltration
Jay crouched behind a stack of shipping containers, his heart pounding in his chest. The port was alive with activity, forklifts whirring and workers shouting instructions. The massive cargo ship loomed ahead, its hull illuminated by floodlights.
"Kenny," Jay whispered into the communicator. "I'm at the shipping yard. What's next?"
"First of all," Kenny's voice replied, "you're welcome for the communicator. And the utility belt. And the mini camera. Got all of it online for a deal."
Jay rolled his eyes. "Focus, Overwatch. Where do I go?"
"Head for the ship. The crate should be in the third row from the stern, marked 'Special Cargo.' Get some photos, and we'll have the evidence we need."
Jay crept forward, sticking to the shadows as he made his way toward the ship. He avoided the workers and guards, his movements quick and quiet. Reaching the edge of the dock, he climbed aboard, slipping past the loading ramp and onto the deck.
"Alright, I'm on the ship," Jay whispered.
"Good," Kenny replied. "Now, find the crate. And don't get caught."
Jay moved through the maze of crates, his eyes scanning for the markings Kenny had mentioned. Finally, he spotted it—"Special Cargo" stenciled in bold letters on the side of a large metal container.
"I found it," Jay said, pulling out the mini camera. He snapped several photos of the crate and the surrounding area, ensuring they had proof of its contents.
"Great," Kenny said. "Now get out of there before—"

A loud throat-clearing interrupted Kenny's voice, and Jay froze. Slowly, he turned around.
Slade stood a few feet away, his brass knuckles sparking menacingly. Behind him were ten security guards, all armed and ready.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," Slade said, his grin widening. "And who are you supposed to be? Some kind of dark crusader?"
Jay straightened, his demeanor shifting instantly. "I'm the Destructor," he said, his voice firm.
Slade's grin faltered for a moment before he barked a laugh. "Destructor, huh? Alright, boys, get him. Raven said to make it hurt."
The guards charged, and Jay braced himself.
The first guard swung a baton at Jay's head. Jay ducked, grabbing the man's arm and twisting it, sending the baton clattering to the ground. He delivered a swift kick to the guard's chest, sending him flying into a stack of crates.
Another guard lunged, but Jay sidestepped, landing a punch that knocked the man unconscious. The others hesitated, but only for a moment.
"Not now, Kenny!" Jay snapped, grabbing another guard and tossing him into the others.
More guards swarmed in, but Jay's enhanced reflexes and strength gave him the upper hand. He ducked, dodged, and struck with precision, taking down each opponent one by one. Sweat dripped down his face, but he didn't slow down.
The fight dragged on, more guards appearing as the commotion grew louder. Jay's movements became sharper, more desperate, as the sheer number of attackers began to wear on him.
Finally, it was just Jay and Slade. The guards lay scattered around them, groaning and defeated.
Slade clapped slowly, his brass knuckles sparking. "If you want something done right," he muttered, stepping forward.
Jay's fists clenched as Slade approached. The man moved with the confidence of someone who'd been in countless fights—and won them all.
Slade struck first, his electrified knuckles grazing Jay's side. The shock sent a jolt of pain through his body, but Jay gritted his teeth and countered with a punch to Slade's jaw.
Slade stumbled but recovered quickly, his movements sharp and precise. He was skilled, every punch and kick aimed to maim or kill. Jay was stronger, but Slade's experience kept him on the back foot.
The fight was brutal, the clang of fists against metal and the crackle of electricity filling the air. Jay's muscles burned, and his breathing grew ragged, but he refused to back down.
As Slade landed another blow, he sneered as the flames from the chemical spill roared behind them, casting jagged shadows across the shipping yard. Jay was curled over, gasping for air, his chest heaving as he struggled to stand. His mask was damp with sweat and blood, his vision blurred from the force of Slade's last punch. Slade stepped forward, his boots clicking ominously on the metal deck.
"You've got fight. I'll give you that," Slade said with a smirk. He reached down, grabbing Jay by the front of his suit. With one sharp motion, he ripped the mask off Jay's face, tossing it to the ground like a discarded toy.
Slade's smirk widened as he studied Jay's face, recognition dawning in his eyes. "Wait a second… You're that scientist's kid. Helen Hunter's boy. Jack, right? Or Jay? Whatever." His grin turned predatory. "I was sure I tagged you that night. I was so damn sure you were dead. But there you were, alive and kicking."
Jay's breaths came shallow and uneven as he stared up at Slade, the words barely registering through the haze of pain and anger.
Slade crouched, his face inches from Jay's. "Let me guess. Mommy dearest saved you, didn't she? Oh, this is rich." He laughed darkly, shaking his head. "She always was the bleeding-heart type. But superpowers? That's a twist. What were you, Mommy's little guinea pig? Did she pump you full of her fancy science toys before she bled out on the floor?"
Jay's hands clenched into fists, the muscles in his arms trembling. Slade's words stabbed into him, each one reopening the wounds of that terrible night. His mind raced with fragments of memory—the shattered glass, the echo of gunfire, the reflections in the mirror. The blurred outlines of the gunmen began to sharpen, and one face emerged from the chaos. Slade's face.
"It was you," Jay rasped, his voice shaking with fury.
Slade's grin faltered slightly. "What was me?"
"You killed her," Jay growled, his voice growing stronger. His hands began to spark with energy, yellow streaks crackling across his fingertips. "You killed my mom."
Slade stood, his smirk returning as he shrugged. "Guilty as charged, kid. And now I get to finish the job."
But Jay wasn't the same kid from that night. The rage boiling inside him ignited, and his body surged with energy. As he stood, his fists glowed brightly, illuminating the space around him.
The fight resumed with ferocity. Jay charged forward, his movements faster, more precise than before. He ducked under Slade's first punch, delivering an uppercut that sent the older man staggering back. Slade recovered quickly, swinging his electrified knuckles toward Jay's ribs. The punch connected, sending a jolt of electricity through Jay's body, but he didn't falter.
Jay retaliated with a powerful punch to Slade's shoulder, followed by a blast of energy from his hand. The blast struck Slade's leg, causing him to stumble. Jay pressed the attack, firing another energy burst that caught Slade in the side, scorching his jacket.
Slade growled, throwing a wild punch that Jay easily sidestepped. "You little punk," Slade snarled, his tone dripping with frustration. "You think some fancy powers are gonna save you?"
Jay didn't respond. He was focused, his anger giving him clarity. He landed a series of rapid punches, each one driving Slade further back. His energy blasts punctuated the blows, forcing Slade to dodge and block as best he could.
Slade swung his knuckles again, aiming for Jay's head, but Jay ducked and countered with a blast to Slade's foot. The older man cried out, stumbling as his weight shifted onto his injured leg. Jay took advantage, delivering a powerful kick to Slade's chest that sent him crashing into a stack of crates.
Slade struggled to stand, coughing as he leaned against the crates. "You're… better than I thought," he admitted, wiping blood from his mouth. His voice was strained, his confidence slipping. "But you're still just a kid. You can't win."
Jay's eyes narrowed, his body glowing with energy as he advanced. "I don't have to win. I just have to stop you."
Slade roared in frustration, lunging at Jay with everything he had. But Jay was ready. He sidestepped the attack, grabbing Slade by the arm and flipping him onto the ground. As Slade tried to rise, Jay planted his foot on the man's chest, holding him down.
"You killed her," Jay said again, his voice steady but filled with emotion. His hands sparked as he raised them, energy crackling dangerously. "And now you're going to pay."
Before Jay could strike, the chemical spill behind them ignited fully, the flames roaring to life. The heat was intense, and the air filled with thick black smoke. Slade coughed violently, his body convulsing as the fumes took hold.
Jay stared down at him, his hands trembling. Slade's eyes were bloodshot, his face contorted in pain. For a brief moment, Jay hesitated.
"Finish it," Slade rasped, his voice barely audible over the crackling flames.
Jay shook his head, stepping back. "I'm not like you. I'm not going to kill you, But I don't have to save you." As the fire consumed the ship, Jay turned and ran. He sprinted to the edge of the deck and dove into the bay, the icy water swallowing him whole.
Hours later Back at Kenny's House
Jay stumbled into Kenny's living room, soaked and shivering. Kenny was glued to the TV, where the news was covering the fire at the port. Footage showed firefighters battling the inferno and police swarming the scene.
"Raven Industries is now under investigation," the anchor said. "Authorities suspect foul play but have yet to release details."
Kenny turned to Jay, his eyes wide. "Holy crap, dude. You did it."
Jay collapsed onto the couch, exhausted but resolute. "It's not over," he said quietly. "Not until Raven pays for everything he's done."
Kenny nodded, his expression serious. "Then let's make sure he does."
The two friends sat in silence, the glow of the TV casting shadows across the room. Outside, the city buzzed with activity, unaware that its newest hero was just beginning his fight.
Kenny hunched over his laptop in his room, his face illuminated by the pale blue glow. His fingers moved rapidly over the keyboard as he navigated through the stolen data Jay had retrieved from Raven Industries.
"Alright, overwrite the metadata, encrypt the files… And there. Done." He leaned back, grabbing a stack of manila envelopes from his desk. Inside each was a copy of the damning evidence, printed and burned onto discs, ready to be mailed.
Kenny packed the envelopes into a box, grinning faintly. "Let's see how you like a little exposure, Raven." He sealed the last envelope, pulling out a roll of stamps. As he placed them carefully, his tone grew more serious. "If we're gonna fight people like Raven, we do it the right way."
Kenny dropping the sealed envelopes into a mailbox on the corner, the lid slamming shut with a satisfying thud.
Inside a Port Avalon police cruiser, Detective John Hunter sipped from a steaming cup of coffee while his partner Frank scrolled through his phone. They had parked at a small diner just outside the city center, the red-and-blue lights of their vehicle flashing faintly in the background.
Frank looked over at John. "You're awfully quiet tonight. What's on your mind?"
John swirled his coffee absently, his jaw tightening.
Frank nodded, taking a sip of his own drink. "Well, whatever it is, you know I've got your back."
John's lips quirked into a faint smile. "Yeah. I know."
Hunter House

Jay sat on the couch, leaning back with his arms draped over the cushions. Molly, his twelve-year-old sister, moved with quiet efficiency in the kitchen. She wore an oversized apron as she carefully pulled a tray of cookies from the oven. The warm, sweet scent filled the air.
"You're seriously baking at this hour?" Jay asked, tilting his head.
Molly smirked without looking up. "You've got a lot of nerve asking me that, Mr. Out-All-Night." She placed the tray on the counter to cool, dusting her hands off on the apron. "Besides, someone's gotta make sure this place feels like home."
Jay's lips tugged into a soft smile, a warmth spreading through his chest. Just as he stood to help, there was a knock at the door. He opened it to find Melanie standing there, her expression hesitant but hopeful. Jay hesitated for a second before pulling her into a hug. "Hey," he murmured.
Melanie leaned into him, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist. "Hey," she whispered back.
Molly peeked around the corner, grinning slyly. "You want a cookie, Melanie? Fresh from the oven."
Melanie laughed softly, pulling back to look at Jay. "She's gonna be a handful when she's older, huh?"
"Don't remind me," Jay muttered, stepping aside to let her in.
Max Raven exited his sleek black car at a private airstrip, his polished shoes clicking against the tarmac. He adjusted the cufflinks on his tailored suit, his expression calm but his movements tense. A private jet idled on the runway, its engines humming softly.
Slade was gone, and the chaos at the docks had spiraled out of control. Raven wasn't one to take chances, and tonight he had decided it was time to leave the city behind. Permanently.
As he ascended the stairs to the jet, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He answered, his voice sharp. "What is it?"
"Sir, you need to get out of there. Now," a voice said urgently. "The police are coming."
Raven paused, his eyes narrowing. "How close?"
The voice hesitated. "Minutes."
Raven turned, his gaze sweeping the horizon. In the distance, he could see the flashing lights of police vehicles racing toward the airstrip, sirens blaring.
His composure slipped for the first time, his jaw tightening. He barked into the phone, "Delay them. Do whatever you have to."
But as the police vehicles drew closer, it became clear that there was no delaying them. Raven's carefully constructed empire was crumbling, and he was out of options.

Unseen beneath the harbor, the water shifted. Among the debris of the burned cargo ship, Slade Masters' electrified brass knuckles rested on the seabed, sparking faintly before falling silent. The chemicals from the ship swirled in the water, the faint glow of something unnatural spreading outward.

The Fallen
At T's place, the Fallen gang was a symphony of chaos waiting to erupt. The abandoned fire station had become their lair, a decaying monument to their reign of mischief. The smell of motor oil and burnt rubber filled the air as the gang prepped for their night of mayhem. Broken bottles and cigarette butts littered the floor, and graffiti covered every wall.
Louise, their leader, lounged on an old, torn-up couch in the center of the room, the leather cracked and stained from years of neglect. His wild red hair gleamed under the flickering light of a makeshift chandelier made of chains and old bike parts. His zombie bride stood beside him, her white wig slightly askew, but her makeup was flawless—dark, sunken eyes and blood-red scars painted with precision. She twirled a metal bat in her hand, the sound of it slicing through the air punctuating the room's noise.
"Alright, boys," Louise shouted, raising a beer bottle in the air. "Tonight, we remind this city who runs the night. A little destruction, a little chaos, and maybe we make ourselves richer in the process."
The gang erupted in cheers, their voices bouncing off the crumbling walls. Some revved their bikes in response, the engines roaring like beasts ready to be unleashed.
The zombie bride grinned wickedly as she hopped onto the back of Louise's motorcycle. "Let's paint the town red," she declared, her voice cutting through the din. Raising her bat high above her head, she let out a blood-curdling battle cry.
Louise smirked, kicking his bike into gear. "You heard the lady. Let's ride!"
One by one, the Fallen mounted their bikes, the engines roaring in unison. They sped out of the fire station, a pack of wolves on wheels, disappearing into the city's labyrinthine streets with malicious intent.
Jay crouched on the rooftop of a towering building, the city stretched out beneath him like a living, breathing organism. His Destructor suit clung to his body, its black and red tones blending seamlessly with the shadows. A stone gargoyle sat beside him, its grotesque face frozen in a perpetual snarl, a fitting companion for his vigil.
The communicator in his ear crackled to life. "You know," Kenny's voice chimed, "for a guy who's supposed to be sneaky, you're really bad at staying low-key."
Jay smirked, adjusting the mask on his face. "Says the guy who bought a utility belt off a discount website."
"Hey, that belt has saved your butt more than once," Kenny shot back. "Respect the gear, Destructor."
Jay stood, his cape catching the wind. "The plan's simple, Overwatch. We find the bad guys, and we stop them."
As he leapt from the rooftop, his body sliced through the air with practiced precision. The city's lights blurred beneath him, a kaleidoscope of neon and streetlamps. His landing was silent, his boots hitting the pavement without a sound.
The Fallen's laughter and shouting reached his ears before he saw them. He rounded a corner and spotted three of them trying to jack a car, their tools glinting under a streetlight. One of them—a hulking brute with a chain wrapped around his fist—was pounding on the car's window while the others stood guard.
Jay's jaw tightened as he approached, his movements swift and calculated. "Hey," he called out, his voice carrying an edge that cut through the night. "Didn't your moms teach you not to steal?"
The thugs froze, their heads snapping toward him. The brute sneered, cracking his knuckles. "And who the hell are you supposed to be?"
Jay stepped into the light, his mask casting a shadow over his face. "I'm the guy who's about to ruin your night."
Jay's Monologue
Later, as the chaos subsided, Jay found himself back on a rooftop, the city sprawling out before him. He stood tall, his cape billowing in the wind as he removed his mask, the cool air brushing against his face.
"No Matter what challenges we face" Jay could hear his mother, voice steady, "Or the struggles we carry within us" His gaze shifted to the horizon, the city lights twinkling like stars. "Our choices define who we are and can always choose to do what is right."
He paused, his thoughts drifting to his mother. "She taught me that. She gave me everything, even her last breath, to make sure I had the chance to choose. To be better." His hands clenched into fists, but there was no anger in his expression, only determination. "I'll always love you, Mom. And thanks to you, I choose to be the best version of myself. For my family. For my friends. For this city."
Jay slid his mask back on, his eyes narrowing as he spotted trouble in the distance. "Time to get to work."
With one final glance at the city below, he leapt into action, disappearing into the night like a shadow. The Destructor wasn't just a name, it was a promise. And Port Avalon's newest hero was just getting started.

A/N: Well, that's it folks, If you made it this far thanks for stopping by. I had a blast writing this. I might come back to this in the future, but honestly I'm not sure at the moment. This project ment so much to me as I'm typing this I feel so accomplished but I'm probably one of ten people on the Planet that remembers atlas and had found memories enough to write this fic. If this eventually does get some engagement down the line I will happily revisit it. Until then Shazam!