The emergency corridor opened into the heart of the facility's lower levels. Lena shoved the last of the kids inside and sealed the door behind them with a palm scan override. The room flickered to life—walls lined with monitors, cameras, and surveillance feeds. Emergency lighting bathed the space in soft red.
Ryan stormed past Lena and slammed his fist on the console. "What the hell are we doing in here?! We should be out there helping him!"
"Shut up and look," Lena said grimly, already typing into the system to pull up the main training room feed.
The central monitor flickered, static dancing for a heartbeat—then stabilized.
And silence fell.
The screen showed hell.
The training room, once pristine, was in ruins. One wall was already blown out. Craters scorched the floors. Smoke drifted through the air like ghosts. But it wasn't the destruction that froze the trainees.
It was Bob.
Or what was left of the man they thought they knew.
He stood shirtless, his jacket in tatters, his skin shimmering with threads of moving darkness, like veins of ink flowing across him. Shadows curled off his body like tendrils, dragging across the ground, pulsing and alive.
His eyes weren't red anymore—they were pitch black, glowing with something that was not rage, not hatred, but pure contempt.
"Oh my god…" Beth whispered.
On the feed, one of the Order members—the brute with molten chains—charged forward with a roar.
Bob didn't even flinch.
He raised one hand, and the shadows on the floor surged upward like a tidal wave, wrapping around the brute's limbs mid-stride and crushing him into the ground. The chains melted, screaming under the pressure. A second later, Bob flicked his wrist—and the man was launched through a column with a sickening crunch, unmoving.
"That's… that's not a fight," Alex murmured. "That's…"
"Slaughter," Lena said quietly.
The psychic woman tried next—hovering above ground, summoning a spear of mental force that crackled in the air.
Bob looked up at her—and laughed.
"Oh wow," he said on the monitor, his voice amplified just enough to be picked up by the mics. "You're all so goddamn weak. Is this what the Order sends now? Bargain bin monsters? Back in my days villains were actually strong, not some weak ass b"
He disappeared in a blur of shadow, reappearing behind her in mid-air.
And slammed her into the ground like a comet.
Ryan blinked. "There were six of them. Where's the other—"
On cue, Axel appeared on-screen, bloodied, staggering, trying to flank Bob with the masked blade wielder.
Bob turned to face them both. "Axel… betrayal stings, you know? You could've run. Could've stayed hidden. But you wanted to be a 'soldier.'"
He backhanded Axel without even looking, sending the man sprawling across the floor in a heap.
"Guess what? You still ain't shit. All six of you are not even half as fun as Rick."
The masked one came next, blades drawn, fast—too fast for the eye.
But Bob didn't dodge.
He raised his arms, and his shadow twisted behind him like wings, intercepting the strikes with screeching force. The impact shattered the floor. Bob caught the attacker mid-lunge, his hand on the man's throat.
"You're all just noise," he growled. "I hate noise, it remains me of the doctors. The way they screamed and begged, as if they weren't the ones who made me that way.
Then slammed the blade wielder through the ground with a scream of tortured steel.
In the comms room, none of them moved. Even Ryan had gone pale.
On-screen, Bob turned his head toward the final Order member—the silver-dressed man, the leader of the attack. He was still standing. Calm. Watching.
Bob took a step forward.
"Your friends were a joke," he said, voice cold as death. "You? I promise, I'll make it hurt."
The monitor flickered again, the feed warping from the pressure of raw power in the room.
Alex turned to Lena. "He's losing it… he's not himself."
"He is himself," Lena whispered. "That's the part you kids don't understand yet. That is Bob—what he really is when he stops holding back. When he lets his own power consume him."
They watched as Bob slowly approached the last enemy—his shadows writhing, his body gleaming with corrupted power, a grin twisting across his face.
And from the screen, they heard him say one last thing before the feed cut to static—
"Let me show you why they call me The Legend, not a legend. The Legend."
…
The final member of the Order—the silver-dressed man—on his knees. Blood dripped from his mouth, his arms bent at unnatural angles, his breathing ragged. His once-flawless uniform was shredded, smudged with soot and the residue of dark power.
Bob stood before him, still cloaked in rippling darkness. His eyes—pitch black and unblinking—were locked on his prey.
"Name," Bob demanded.
The man remained silent, his jaw trembling.
Bob sighed. "We can do this all night. I don't mind. to be honest, i love it."
A tendril of shadow shot from the ground, wrapping around the man's forearm and twisting, the bone cracking loudly. The man screamed.
In the comms room, Beth turned away. Alex couldn't look away. Ryan clenched his fists, conflicted.
"Bob, stop…" Alex whispered.
On screen, Bob crouched in front of the enemy. "You knew where you were going. You came to my home. You tried to kill those i cherish."
The silver man spat blood. "You're a monster…"
Bob's grin widened. "You have no idea."
The shadows around him swirled, whispering—voices not his own, slithering with echoes of fear itself. The room around them darkened unnaturally, even though the emergency lights still flickered above.
Bob placed two fingers on the man's forehead.
"I've always wondered," he muttered, "what fear really looks like in someone who's been taught to bury it."
The shadows moved.
And the man screamed.
Not from pain. Not from injury. But from something deeper. Something only he could see.
Bob stood up slowly, eyes never leaving his victim. The silver man began to convulse, his mouth opening in a silent wail, eyes rolling back. He clawed at his own face, as if trying to scrape something away. His body trembled, and the smell of burnt ozone and despair filled the room.
In the comms room, Lena reached forward and switched the feed off.
"Enough," she said.
"What did he do to him?" Beth whispered, her voice barely audible.
Lena looked down. "Bob didn't hurt him. Not physically. He just… showed him the truth. Every worst moment. Every fear he's ever had. Amplified."
"That's a power?" Alex asked.
"It's a curse," Lena replied. "And Bob was born with it."
Silence reigned.
Until Ryan muttered, "He really was the monster they talked about on the news, huh?"
"No," Lena said, her eyes hard. "The monsters were the ones who made him this way. What you saw was Bob choosing to fight monsters on their level—for us."
Back in the ruined training room, Bob stood alone now.
Surrounded by six broken bodies.
His chest rose and fell, breath heavy, the shadows slowly withdrawing from his skin like ink retreating into water.
He looked at his hands.
"Still here," he whispered. But his voice trembled. Just a little.
He staggered back a step, pain settling in behind the adrenaline. And then he sank to one knee.
Not because he was tired.
But because he was trying to remember who he was.
The blast doors groaned open, their edges scorched and twisted from the chaos inside. Smoke hung in the air like a veil, and the stench of ash, blood, and ozone choked the silence.
Alex was the first to step in.
His eyes darted from body to body—six of them, scattered like discarded dolls. Some were still breathing. Most weren't. The shadows that had writhed like living serpents now clung to the walls like stains that refused to fade.
Bob stood in the center of it all.
Shoulders slumped. Back turned. Blood drying on his knuckles and forearms. The tips of his fingers still flickered with leftover black energy, faint as dying embers. His breathing was shallow.
He didn't look up when they entered.
Beth froze at the threshold, her smoothie long forgotten. Her phone slipped from her hand and cracked on the floor. Selena's smug attitude vanished. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Even Ryan—cocky, untouchable Ryan—looked like a child staring into the mouth of a storm.
Axel's unconscious body lay nearest to the door, tossed like a ragdoll. A reminder.
It was Alex who stepped forward.
"Bob…" he said quietly.
Bob didn't turn.
Ryan whispered, "That's… that's Rafael Azar."
Beth's head snapped toward him. "Wait, what?"
Selena took a step back, her voice hushed with disbelief. "The one who destroyed half a city when he escaped the lab. The one who killed—like—hundreds."
"That's a lie," Alex said, still walking slowly forward.
"He really is freak," Ryan muttered.
"No, he's not."
Bob finally turned.
His eyes were no longer pitch black. Just red—tired, regretful, human.
"I didn't want you to find out like this," he said.
His voice was calm. Empty.
"You were supposed to be safe. You were supposed to hate me after this was over."
"No one's hating you, Bob," Alex said firmly.
"You should." He looked at the others now. "All of you should. Because they didn't lie about the destruction. Or the blood. Or the fear."
Silence.
Then Beth, voice low: "So it's true."
Bob didn't answer.
Selena stepped forward slightly, her eyes narrowed, not in judgment, but in thought. "And you've been protecting us the whole time."
"I was doing what Hope asked me to do," Bob said. "Trying not to become what they made me."
Alex walked until he stood right in front of him. "You didn't become anything. You stayed you. The one who made us train. Who kept us safe. Who showed up every night just to say goodnight."
Bob looked at him—really looked. "You're not scared?"
"I saw what you did," Alex replied. "And I'm scared of a lot of things, but you're not one of them."
Bob's breath hitched.
Beth finally found her voice. "So what now?"
Bob exhaled slowly. "Now you decide. If you still want to be trained by someone like me."
Alex looked over his shoulder at the others.
Ryan hesitated, then mumbled, "I'm sorry, i freaked out. You scared the hell out of me, man. But… you also saved our asses."
Selena shrugged. "I've had worse boyfriends."
Beth folded her arms. "I guess if we've been trained by THE living weapon and survived, we're probably better off for it. And Selena, just so you know he already has a girlfriend, the hottie that got us out of here."
"Wha.. Since when?
Bob's lip twitched, just barely. "You're all idiots."
"But we're your idiots," Alex said with a grin.
Bob looked at them all. Broken, scared, still standing.
Maybe still willing.
And for the first time that night, something inside him unclenched.
"Alright then," he said. "Tomorrow… we'll need to clean up around here, and we'll need better security, I'll talk with Mr. Smith about it."
Everyone groaned.
"Now I am scared," Ryan muttered.
Bob just smiled.
Alex suddenly stood tall, his voice wasn't shaking. He didn't hesitate as he randomly said.
"Hope was my father."
The silence snapped.
"WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK?" Ryan blurted, his voice cracking in disbelief as he pointed between Alex and Bob like his brain couldn't catch up.
Selena's lips parted in shock, her usual swagger faltering. "Wait, what?"
Beth blinked hard, her smoothie slipping from her hand and spilling across the floor without her even noticing. "You're serious?"
Alex stood firm, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, his expression calm. "Yep."
Ryan turned to Bob, bug-eyed. "You knew too?"
Bob didn't flinch. "Of course."
"So this wasn't like a surprise drop? A soap opera twist? You just knew?"
Alex gave him a flat look. "And Dad raised me. Just not publicly."
Beth slowly walked forward, eyes wide. "You're telling me you've known all this time that your dad was Hope, the Hope, and you just didn't say anything?"
Alex shrugged. "I didn't think it mattered."
Bob added, "Hope made enemies. If people knew who Alex really was, he'd be even more of a target. He wanted his son to live a normal life… or at least try."
Ryan was pacing now. "This is insane. First, I'm training with Rafael Azar—walking WMD—and now this? I feel like I need a therapist and a drink."
Selena looked between the two of them. "So what now? Is this the part where you tell us Alex has world-ending powers too?"
Bob didn't respond.
Alex just said, "I'm not as powerful as my father," And Bob didn't know if he was just lying or just didn't know yet. That his potential was far greater then Hope's was.
Beth crossed her arms. "Yeah, well… you might not be as strong Hope. But you've definitely got the same intensity."
"Yeah," Ryan muttered, still stunned. "And the same habit of hiding god-level secrets. Like i donno, lying about killing The Rafael Azar."
Bob glanced at Alex. "You didn't have to say it."
Alex met his gaze. "I wanted to. It's not a secret anymore."
Bob's jaw tightened slightly—but there was pride in his eyes.
As the stunned silence settled again, Bob exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. The last few days had been chaos—his identity exposed, Alex's parentage out in the open, and now all of them standing in the wreckage of what used to be their training room like some makeshift confession booth.
He cleared his throat.
"And for the record," Bob said, glancing sideways at Alex and the others, "Lena's not my girlfriend."
Ryan tilted his head. "Wait—what?"
Alex raised an eyebrow. "Then what was that storage room moment we saw, hmm?"
Beth grinned. "You literally said she was your girlfriend."
Bob gave them a tired look. "I lied. Thought it'd get you off my back."
"Then who is she?" Ryan asked.
"She was Hope's ex-sidekick," Bob said simply.
A sharp beat of silence. Then—
"What the fuck?" Alex said, louder than he meant to.
Everyone turned to him. His eyes were wide—genuinely stunned for the first time in a long while.
"She wa…she was Dad's sidekick?" he repeated, trying to process it. "Like… back then? When he was still had one?"
Bob nodded. "Yeah. Went by Phantom. She was the only person he trusted to watch his back when things got messy."
"I've met her several times when i was like eight," Alex muttered, more to himself. "She's been around this whole time… and no one told me?"
"She kept her distance for a reason," Bob said.
Ryan looked between the two of them, throwing his hands in the air. "I swear, everyone in this place has some hidden connection to a dead legend or a global crisis. Am I the only one here who didn't get mentored by a myth?!"
Beth patted him on the back. "Don't worry, Ryan. You've still got your sparkling personality."
Selena smirked. "And your overwhelming humility."
Selena, still reeling, shook her head. "So Lena's not your girlfriend. She's his father's ex sidekick. This day just keeps getting weirder."
Alex cracked a rare smile. "Welcome to the family."
Selena groaned. "I want a refund."
And for just a moment, there was laughter.
It wasn't loud or long, but it was real. The brutal chaos of the night had left them all frayed at the edges, and the simple act of joking, even for a second, felt like the closest thing to healing.
Then the door slid open.
Lena stepped inside, and everything changed.
Her boots thudded softly against the floor, but her expression struck harder than any noise could have. Her eyes were wide, shimmering with unshed tears, her face flushed with urgency and grief. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, like she'd run the whole way there but forgot how to breathe when she arrived.
Everyone fell silent. The warmth vanished in an instant.
"Lena?" Bob asked, his voice steady, but the tension had returned to his posture in a blink. He stepped forward, searching her face for any sign that he was misreading this.
She didn't look at him.
Her eyes were locked somewhere just over his shoulder, or maybe miles beyond the room, glassy and unfocused. Her lips parted, trembling slightly before the words even came.
"He's dead."