Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 60: The Factory

Chapter 60: The Factory

Lyra arrived at the lab, and even before she got to the door, the noise inside hit her. It sounded like chaos.

A voice boomed, "When are you all moving out?"

The guy wasn’t someone Lyra recognized. He was furious, pounding the table so hard it echoed. "You think I don’t know you’re still tinkering with that useless gadget? The equipment’s busted now. Let’s see what you’ll do about it!"

Sorren, with a smirk, shot back, "Feeling proud, huh? Don’t act like I don’t know who wrecked it. You don’t want to mess up with me."

"Oh, so you’re gonna hit me or what? Go ahead. Just remember, this isn’t Voidstar. The patrols here don’t mess around!" The landlord leaned in close, daring Sorren to make a move.

But before anyone could blink, a green strap whipped across the room, smacking the landlord so hard he staggered back.

Sorren’s expression shifted from shock to satisfaction as he watched.

Lyra stepped in, quietly shutting the door behind her. "Close the curtains. All this noise is getting old."

A few quick motions later, the room was draped in darkness.

The landlord, nursing his now swollen face, stumbled back against a machine spewing black smoke. He frantically tried to find an escape but was trapped.

He shakily pulled out his terminal, ready to call the authorities, but a slender hand calmly reached over, pressing the power button to turn it off.

Lyra’s hand, now encased in white disposable gloves, gave off a cold vibe that sent chills down his spine. Her eyes locked onto his, icy and unforgiving. "There are a few things you need to explain, and I suggest you do so honestly."

Whatever he said was drowned out by the thick, soundproof door. After about half an hour, Lyra peeled off the gloves and sent a ball of healing energy his way.

She glanced at the mechanics, all pale-faced and uneasy, and then nodded toward Sorren. "Handle it."

"On it." Sorren cleaned up the mess—blood, sweat, and all—before ’sending’ the landlord on his way.

Then, with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty, he followed Lyra. "What’s the plan now? We haven’t got any new orders, and the equipment’s toast."

He wanted to ask if they were just going to pack it up, especially with the looming threat of Mendez crushing them.

Sean and the other mechanics looked just as defeated. Years of effort had gotten them nowhere, and just when they had found someone to back their inventions, disaster struck.

Lyra inspected the damaged gear. "Fix what can be fixed. If it’s beyond repair, toss it and get new ones. I’ve got the funds."

Her calm, confident tone was like a breath of fresh air, easing the tension in the room.

Sorren, still hesitant, asked, "Are we really going to go up against Mendez?"

"You got a problem with that?" Lyra’s gaze sent a chill down his spine, and he quickly shook his head.

"Where are the new recruits? Bring them in."

Lyra casually sank into a chair, her small frame making it look oversized, but no one dared underestimate her.

"This is the new accountant, Morrison Ray. He’s the one who prepped the report you asked for," Sorren introduced a young man dressed in a white shirt and slacks.

He had brown curly hair and brown eyes, and though he seemed quiet, the muscles bulging beneath his shirt suggested he wasn’t all that soft.

Lyra’s gaze lingered on him just long enough to make him sweat. He avoided eye contact, clearly nervous.

Then, she sat up straight, flashing a slight smile. "The report was thorough and well-done. Nice job."

Morrison’s tense expression tightened even more. "Thank you, boss."

After meeting Sorren’s group, Lyra moved on to greet some of the research staff. As she went away, Morrison was left standing there, wiping the sweat from his brow with shaky hands.

Sorren shot him a glance and nodded, a smirk playing on his lips as if to say, "Not bad, kid."

Morrison opened his mouth, maybe to say something, but seeing Sorren’s pleased expression, he decided to stay quiet. He figured it was better to avoid any drama since he was now under Sorren’s wing.

Meanwhile, Sean introduced a scrawny young man who barely stood 180 cm tall—short by interstellar standards. His pale skin and bright, soft eyes made him look like the kind of guy who’d blush and avoid eye contact when talking to girls.

"H-hello, boss," the young man stammered, clearly nervous.

Despite trying to hide it, his curiosity was evident. He couldn’t believe how young and small Lyra was; his senior’s description hadn’t fully prepared him.

Sean gave the young man a light smack on the back of his head. "You’re too honest, kid!" Then, he quickly added, "Don’t let his looks fool you. Rajan here may only be a senior in college, but he’s already won multiple awards in intelligent machinery. He got into a bit of trouble with a professor who wrongly accused him of plagiarism, but I can vouch for him..."

Lyra cut him off, "Use him however you see fit. You’re in charge of research. I only care about results."

The mechanics exchanged relieved smiles. They’d been nervous after seeing the boss’s tough side, but now they were pleasantly surprised by her straightforwardness. Things were looking up.

After a few more words, Lyra was ready to leave. She hadn’t gone far when Sorren hurriedly caught up with her.

"By the way, boss, I found a new factory location. I’d like to take you there," he said eagerly.

Lyra turned to face him. "You’re unusually enthusiastic about this."

Sorren patted his chest, grinning. "Well, I just want to help you make more money, boss."

"Lead the way."

Sorren quickly brought his Lev around, driving with a bit of flash.

The Lev zipped through the busy city streets, gradually leaving behind the high-tech skyline as they headed towards the outskirts. Sorren glanced in the rearview mirror. "The place is a bit out of the way. It’ll take a little while. Want some water?"

He handed Lyra a bottle of water.

Lyra accepted it, noting it was sealed, and twisted off the cap to take a sip. Only then did Sorren take his eyes off the mirror.

The car finally pulled up in front of an abandoned factory. The area was overrun with weeds, and the crumbling walls were all that remained of what was once a thriving industrial site.

Suddenly, the Lev door was yanked open, and Sorren was dragged out by a massive hand.

The back door swung open too, revealing Bengal, who leaned against the Lev with a weapon in hand. "Sis Marv, come on out."

Lyra’s dark eyes locked with his, and he flashed a yellow-toothed grin. "This time, I’ve got plenty of backup, and your military friends aren’t around to bail you out. Better behave!"

In an instant, a silver streak of light shot out.

In the blink of an eye, the Lev was sliced into pieces, as if it were made of butter.

The gang of thugs, startled by the sudden attack, reflexively opened fire.

Gunfire echoed through the abandoned factory, the sharp sounds of bullets mixing with the screeching of metal clashing, turning the scene into a chaotic mess.

Bengal, panicking, shoved aside the man next to him. "Stop shooting, you idiots! Blackheart wants her alive. You trying to get us all killed or what?"

The gang, seeing Bengal’s outburst, quickly stopped firing, fear spreading through their ranks.

"Where is she?" Bengal growled, kicking the guy who had fired first. "Go check if she’s still breathing!"

Not far off, Sorren was huddled behind a wall, shaking like a leaf. With all that gunfire, he was sure Lyra had to be riddled with bullets by now.

But then, he heard a series of sharp slicing sounds, followed by Bengal’s furious shouts. Curiosity got the better of him, and Sorren cautiously peeked out from his hiding spot.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

Lyra was standing on the wrecked car, calmly retracting the elastic metal that had cut through the chaos like a hot knife through butter.

Blood dripped steadily from the metal ball, and the goons who had been firing moments ago were now lifeless, sprawled out in pools of their own blood.

Of all the men Bengal had brought, only a few were still standing, and they were clearly the best of the bunch.

Sorren, still hiding as tightly as he could, couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or utterly terrified. Blackheart’s ruthless reputation was no exaggeration.

Then, as if sensing his presence, Lyra’s cold gaze shifted in his direction.

The danger had turned toward him.