All Chapters of RED LABEL: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The megacity of New Avalon never truly slept. It simply changed shifts. By 7:30 AM, the streets surrounding Redstone Tower had transformed into a raging river of ambition. Luxury sedans glided past yellow cabs, coffee vendors shouted over the roar of engines, and thousands of sharply dressed elites poured into the 78-story glass monolith dominating the sky. Redstone Global Holdings wasn't just a corporation. It was an empire. Banking, AI, aerospace, pharmaceuticals, energy... If an industry shaped the modern world, Redstone owned a piece of it. Its towering glass facade reflected the morning sun in blinding fragments, as if the building itself refused to be questioned. Inside those polished walls, promotions were wars. Friendships were temporary. Power was permanent. Outside? Power meant absolutely nothing. Across the street, a bearded man pushed a battered shopping cart, its wheels squeaking in protest against the uneven pavement. His clothes were faded beyond recognition. H

The wind blew a loose sheet of paper across the pavement with a dry, scraping whisper.Three blocks away, a taxi horn blared: a dull, familiar sound from a city that hadn't yet realized its own illusion of safety was tearing at the seams.Evelyn Carter froze.Her breath caught in her throat, thick and cold, her eyes wide with sudden, dizzying horror. She looked down. Resting directly against the polished leather of her right high heel was a sub-compact pistol, fitted with a heavy, matte-black suppressor.She looked up.The man standing over the broken attacker didn't look like a bum anymore.The stoop in his shoulders was gone, replaced by a rigid, terrifying poise. His feet were planted in a deep, lethal stance, knees slightly bent, chest expanded beneath the dirty, frayed trench coat that flapped open in the morning breeze. Beneath the grime and torn fabric, the thick, corded muscle of an apex predator stood exposed.His eyes—cold, steel-gray, and utterly merciless—were fixed on the

The flashing lights of six police cruisers washed over the white marble facade of Redstone Tower in alternating pulses of crimson and electric blue.Detective Vance of the Precinct 4 Robbery-Homicide Division tapped his pen against a leather-bound notebook, his mouth set in a hard, doubtful line. Around them, news crews pushed against blue police tape, boom mics hovering like eager scavengers."Ms. Carter," Vance said, his voice competing with the rhythmic thump of a news helicopter hovering overhead. "I understand you’re shaken. But I need you to be precise. You're telling me a vagrant—a civilian with no visible affiliation—dismantled three militarized contractors in under forty-five seconds with a rusted shopping cart and his bare hands?"Evelyn, standing beneath a shock blanket draped over her charcoal suit, didn't flinch. "I am not shaken, Detective. I am telling you what happened. He saved my life, neutralized three armed kidnappers, and walked away before your first unit arrive

By the time Evelyn Carter's armored sedan glided beneath the towering glass canopy of Redstone Global Headquarters the following morning, the story had already outrun her.It had spread through private executive chats before sunrise, leaked into corporate gossip groups before breakfast, and somehow reached every employee's phone before the elevators even opened for the morning rush. WhatsApp chat groups were buzzing with excitement within Redstone Global offices."Who was the bum that rescued our GM? Did anyone get his true identity," a chat message buzzed on the group screen."Who cares who that nobody is," a reply filtered into the chat box. "He could be Prince Trashing for all I care. It's his stench that I'm worried about. I hope it didn't contaminate the crime scene where he crashed in uninvited." "Ease off, Elma, give the poor man a break. Remember he saved the GM from a professional kidnapping attempt. At least give him credit for that," typed in a sympathizer into the group

No one laughed. No one dared to. The tension in the room snapped taut enough to hang laundry on. Yet, across the table, several pairs of lips quivered violently. Richard Holloway’s left cheek twitched as he fought with the strength of ten men not to burst into an outright chuckle. Miranda cleared her throat, though her dark eyes gleamed with a wicked, gossipy sparkle she couldn't quite extinguish. "This particular image, generated by a college student in Ohio, reached twenty-three million impressions on TikTok within four hours." She swiped the screen again. A second image appeared. A side-by-side comparison. On the left: a photo of Redstone Global’s tactical security team standing outside the building in five-thousand-dollar custom body armor. On the right: a cropped picture of the homeless man's squeaking wire shopping cart. The caption read: REDSTONE SECURITY BUDGET: $40 MILLION. THE GUY WHO ACTUALLY SAVED THE CEO: $0.12 IN RECYCLED CANS. Miranda swiped again, seemingly