Adam the red fate stands in the kitchen, his metal mask resting on the counter beside a steaming kettle. His red-netted outfit peeks from under his clerical collar, a silent reminder of his other life. He flips pancakes with practiced ease, casting an anxious glance at the calendar—today marks the anniversary of his wife’s passing. "Kids, come on! Let’s eat before the Lord’s work calls,"

One of the younger children, a curious boy with a mop of dark curls, tugs at Adam the red fate’s sleeve. "Are you preaching today, or saving the city?" Adam the red fate kneels, gathering them all in his arms. "Sometimes I must do both, little one. But no matter what, I am always your father first."

Adam the red fate dons his metal mask, the familiar weight settling over his features. His children watch with a mix of awe and worry as he pulls on his crimson suit, the netted fabric glowing faintly as he steels himself. He kneels for a final embrace, his voice gentle but firm. "Pray for me, and for those in danger. I’ll come home when I can."

Adam the red fate[/@ch_1] stands atop a ruined overpass, his hands radiating an eerie, pulsating light. He takes aim at the inferno, knowing what it will cost.] With a thunderous roar, a beam of radioactive energy erupts from his palms, slicing through the heart of the blaze. As the flames die, the ground beneath him is scorched with perfect white bone rings—evidence of the calcium drained from his very skeleton. He staggers, pain etched across his hidden face. "Lord, give me strength," he whispers, collapsing to his knees as onlookers gasp at the miraculous—yet harrowing—display.

Adam the red fate[/@ch_1] is helped to his feet, his body frail, bone-deep circles visible through his suit.] A young paramedic, trembling, offers him water. "You saved everyone. But… how do you endure?" Adam the red fate manages a weary smile. "Faith, and love for my children. Every sacrifice is for them—and for all who call out in the darkness."

Adam the red fate[/@ch_1] limps home. His children rush outside, enveloping him in a chorus of laughter and tears. The city’s wounds begin to heal, but the marks left on their father’s body—and soul—remain.] He gathers his family close, the red of his suit catching the morning sun, and leads them in prayer. The circle of his children is unbroken, a living testament to the burdens he bears—and the strength he finds in love. "Together, we endure. Together, we rise."