Chapter 300 Come.

Chapter 300: 300 Come.

I was careful heading into Metropolis that night, and for good reason. The armored Cruiser stayed parked in the chalet’s underground garage.

Instead, I broke out the reliable, inconspicuous Crown for the trip into the city.

It was a shame to leave the heavy hardware behind, but given the circumstances, I figured it was best to keep an aggressively low profile.

Even if Chamelea was successfully masquerading as Glacia right now, it was only a matter of time before the authorities figured it out.

I doubted they’d try anything too harsh with her anytime soon—not with S-list heavy hitters like Mystic and Khonsu hovering around the supermax to ensure things stayed strictly by the book—but her cover wouldn’t last forever.

But there was more to it than just the ticking clock on Chamelea’s disguise. I had to lay low for an entirely different reason.

That doctored video of No Whey’s murder was currently plastered all over the net. That meant plenty of streeters, vigilantes, and glory-seeking capes had probably gotten an eyeful of it.

The media frenzy had painted a massive target squarely on my back. It was open season on me and any of the girls operating under my league’s banner. Well, more so than usual, anyway.

I navigated through Metropolis’s night-lit thoroughfares, keeping to the speed limit and avoiding the main hero patrol routes, heading straight for the address Rhea had fed me.

I arrived in good time. Rage for the Machine was a radio studio located on the upper floors of a large commercial office building deep in the heart of the city, right where the skyscrapers started to consume the horizon and neon signs blazed from every side.

I parked the Crown across the street, cutting the engine and stepping out slowly to eye the structure.

I was dressed casually, but beneath the loose jacket and dark jeans, I wore my iron bracers and anklets.

I wasn’t entirely sure what I was likely to find up there, but I highly doubted it was going to be a friendly pop-quiz about classic rock lyrics.

"This it?" Psyren asked. She stepped out of the passenger side, peering through a pair of tinted starburst glasses up at the floor in question.

A set of buzzing, crooked red neon letters reading 97.1 burned at the top of the building, sitting just in front of a tangled mass of radio antennae.

"Willing to bet yes," I said, tapping my earpiece. "Rhea?"

"Yoho!"

"Which floor?"

"Fifth, Miles. But I can’t get you much more than that. The security cameras up there are either running on a closed physical feed or they’ve been completely shut off from the inside. I’ve got nothing else."

"All good." I looked over the roof of the car at Psyren. "You reading anything?"

Psyren shifted her headphones off one ear, her eyes squinting up at the concrete facade.

The neon pink hearts in her irises buzzed with her telepathic power, and her frown deepened—quite adorably, I might add, but that was beside the point.

"No minds around," she said, glancing back at me as the pink glow faded. "Think they split?"

It was highly possible. I sure as hell would have packed up and vanished the second the broadcast did its damage. But the thing about villains was that they rarely knew when to quit.

The odds were even better that if this did turn out to be a rival villain’s work, they had intentionally left a surprise for me up there. But it was the only physical lead I had, so my decision was already made.

"I’m going in," I said.

"Sure you don’t want me coming with?" Psyren asked, crossing her arms.

"I’d love to, but I can’t risk it. If this goes south, I need you out here. I’ll call you up if things get hairy, or if I find someone who needs a bit of... psychic convincing to talk."

Psyren grinned, cracking her knuckles. "Bring it on, boss man. I’ll show them what happens when they mess with the ice princess."

I was sure glad she was on my side. I gave the psychic a reassuring pat on the shoulder, turned, and made my way across the street toward the building.

I didn’t just walk through the front lobby. I did a slow, methodical circuit of the perimeter first, sending a heavy pulse of my magnetic power straight through the concrete to try and get a tactile feel for the interior layout.

It was a pretty extensive place. Through the walls, I could feel the magnetic signatures of standard metal desks on the lower floors, the copper wiring of basic computer systems, and what felt like a large yoga studio on the third floor given the sheer lack of heavy furniture. But on the fifth floor... Wow. Jackpot.

I could sense a massive, concentrated block of machinery up there. It was far more hardware than your typical local shock-jock should ever need, and the magnetic resonance told me it was of exceptional quality.

The sheer amount of rare metals I could feel humming with electrical current was insane for anything short of a commercial server farm.

Clearly, there was a lot more going on inside that studio than just broadcasting angry political rants and indie rock.

I still didn’t sense anything metallic moving around that might indicate armed guards patrolling the floor. But then again, if they had the tech to deepfake a live broadcast, they definitely had the resources to prepare for a physical breach.

Unless they were complete amateurs. But I had a gut feeling that was far from the case. You didn’t pull off a coordinated, high-tech frame-job like what happened to Glacia by being new at this game.

I looked up at the fifth-floor window, briefly considering just flying up there and smashing through the glass. I decided against it.

Even at night, that kind of flashy entry might draw unwanted attention in Metropolis. Lots of local heroes liked to patrol by rooftop, brooding on gargoyles and actively looking for shit to start.

Besides, if someone was waiting for me in the radio station, they were sure to have covered the most obvious aerial approaches.

That left one quiet option.

I walked down the narrow alleyway and approached the steel fire exit.

Pushing my magnetic powers into the heavy door, I mentally grasped the tiny metal clapper of the internal security alarm and held it perfectly still.

With a subtle flex of my will, I forced the heavy steel deadbolts to slide backward with a muffled click. I pulled the door open, slipped inside the dark stairwell, and gently shut it behind me, locking it again.

Alright. So far, so good.

I made my way slowly up the concrete stairs, every sense keyed up for boobytraps.

My powers radiated outward in steady, rhythmic pulses, pinging off the brass handles of the doors, the steel screws in the drywall, the heavy iron hinges, and the metal safety railing. Nothing else registered. Which wasn’t super surprising.

Putting a pressure-plate bomb or a rigged explosive in a public commercial fire escape was a great way to draw immediate federal attention, since the building played host to plenty of legitimate businesses besides the radio station.

But I wasn’t taking any careless chances. At least, not until I had all the info I could get.

"...tor..."

I stopped dead on the landing, cocking my head as static hissed in my ear. My hand went straight to the receiver. "Rhea? What is it?"

"...things wro... Miles, it’s cutting o..."

A heavy, snowy crackle of dead static filled my ear. I tapped the receiver again. Broken? No. Highly unlikely. It had to be actively jammed.

So, did that mean they actively knew I was coming up the stairs? Or did they just have a high-powered jamming field permanently set up around their server farm to keep their operational security tight?

I looked up the dim concrete steps, seriously considering backing off, regrouping with Psyren, and coming back another time.

But if I had just unknowingly triggered some silent alarm I hadn’t sensed, they might take the opportunity to wipe their drives and piss off into the wind.

If I walked away now, I’d probably never pick up another solid lead on this frame-job.

No.

I had to keep moving forward, even if this was walking straight into a trap.

Tactical decision made, I resumed my climb. I moved slowly, the metal in my bracers humming softly under my jacket. Fortunately, nothing triggered, and soon enough, I reached the fourth-floor landing, heading up to the fifth.

I stopped in front of the heavy steel security door leading to the studio. I sent one final, massive wave of localized magnetism straight through the metal, but once more,

I didn’t pick out any explosive traps or physical alarms on the other side. Should I just rip the hinges off and slam my way through? It was tempting.

"Please, come in."