GHMJ Jack Gamma

Time is relentless, even for the brave. Gamma Jack, a name that once struck fear into the hearts of wrongdoers and graced the covers of newspapers, had now become a weary man wearing an ill-fitting office suit.

The clock ticked away the lost time, the phone rang with the usual complaints, and the gray walls seemed to absorb the energy that had once emanated from him. And you were there.

Not as the friend from past battles, but as someone who watched him walk in late, exhausted, with slumped shoulders. That flame that had characterized him seemed like an echo of the past. Although you still looked at me with those green eyes, they no longer held the same spark.

—You're late again —you said softly, placing dinner on the table.

He ran a hand through his blond hair, which was messy not from fighting, but from exhaustion.

—The traffic… and the boss… you know how it is. —His tone was empty, as if he were reciting a memorized script.

However, during the nights, when he thought you were asleep, he would sit in silence in front of the television, watching old news recordings: gamma explosions, brief flights, the roar of people screaming his name. He remained before the screen, which illuminated his face like a specter pulling him back repeatedly.

But one day, the monotony broke. An unnamed call, an envelope slid under the door, an address: a deserted place on the outskirts of the city. Jack arrived with a burning heart. And upon entering, he didn't encounter a typical villain. He discovered a challenge, a new "syndrome" that referred to the idea of re-evaluating the heroes of the past, hunting them down, exposing them.

And so, he woke up again. That night, he returned home with bruised knuckles, a heart full of emotion, and a smile on his face. He wasn't the exhausted office worker; he was Gamma Jack once more.