The city hummed with life, neon lights flickering in the dim evening as people bustled through the streets. Zale and Jared walked at a casual pace, their shoulders brushing as they navigated through the familiar roads leading to their favorite café. Despite the relaxation they should have felt, there was a tension between them—an unspoken agreement that something wasn't right.
Zale's power was still an enigma, a force he barely understood yet relied on heavily. His control over his Avatar, the swirling air-like orb that could be shaped into anything, had grown stronger, but the deeper he delved into his abilities, the more questions arose. Why had he been chosen? What was the true extent of the Sin of Sloth's influence?
Jared let out a long breath. "We need answers, man. We can't keep running blind."
Zale nodded. "I know. That's why we're going back."
Their favorite café was more than just a place for good coffee—it had always been a haven. A place where they could sit and pretend that their world wasn't crumbling around them. But tonight, something felt off.
As they approached, Zale's eyes caught a shadow lingering in the periphery. It wasn't the first time he had noticed it. The presence had been trailing them subtly for the past fifteen minutes.
Jared noticed his shift in attention. "You see it too?"
"Yeah," Zale muttered. "We're being followed."
Jared exhaled sharply. "So, what's the plan?"
"We go inside," Zale said simply. "Let's see what they do."
They stepped into the café, the warm scent of coffee and pastries washing over them. The barista recognized them and gave a small wave before returning to her work. They settled into their usual booth near the window, giving them a clear view of the street.
Minutes passed.
Then, the shadow emerged—a hooded figure slipping into a seat near the back, partially concealed behind a newspaper. The tension between Zale and Jared thickened, but they kept up appearances, chatting idly as if nothing was wrong.
Then, without warning, the café door swung open.
A figure entered—silent, calculating. He moved with practiced ease, his sharp gaze scanning the room before settling on Zale and Jared.
And then, he attacked.
The assassin moved like a phantom, drawing a suppressed firearm from beneath his coat. Zale barely had time to react before the gun was aimed directly at Jared.
Everything slowed.
Zale's Avatar materialized, air molecules condensing into a near-invisible barrier. The bullet struck the shield and deflected, shattering a nearby plate.
Chaos erupted.
Customers screamed and dove for cover as the assassin fired again. Zale lunged, shaping his Avatar into a spear, hurling it toward their attacker. The assassin twisted out of the way, impossibly fast, the weapon barely grazing his shoulder.
Jared ducked, reaching for a nearby chair to use as a weapon, but the assassin was already pivoting, his gun now aimed lower—at Jared's leg.
The shot rang out.
Jared collapsed with a grunt, clutching his thigh as blood seeped between his fingers. Zale's heart pounded. He had to finish this.
His Avatar shifted again, forming twin daggers. He launched himself forward, his movements fueled by instinct rather than thought. The assassin dodged once more, but this time, Zale was ready.
A second tendril of his Avatar lashed out, wrapping around the assassin's arm and yanking him forward. Zale drove his knee into the man's gut before slamming him against the café counter. The assassin struggled, but Zale tightened his hold, his energy pulsing.
"Who sent you?" Zale growled.
The assassin didn't answer. Instead, he smirked, then bit down—cyanide.
Zale barely had time to react before the assassin's body convulsed, his eyes rolling back as foam spilled from his lips.
Jared groaned, still clutching his leg. "Great. Just great."
Zale turned to him, panic and anger swirling inside him. "We need to get you out of here."
Sirens wailed in the distance. They had to move. Now.
Ignoring the stares of the horrified patrons, Zale looped Jared's arm over his shoulder and hoisted him up. Together, they stumbled toward the back exit.
---
The Hunt Begins
The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of rain as they hurried through the narrow alleys behind the café. Jared gritted his teeth, his steps uneven as he limped beside Zale. His leg wound wasn't fatal, but it slowed them down significantly.
"Keep going," Zale urged. "We need to get somewhere safe."
Jared let out a weak chuckle. "Anywhere specific in mind, genius?"
Zale scanned the dimly lit street, considering their options. They couldn't go back home—that would be too obvious. The assassin had been sent by someone who wanted them dead, and they needed to find out who before another attack came.
Zale spotted a rundown warehouse nearby. "There."
They slipped inside, the heavy door groaning as it shut behind them. Dust hung in the air, and broken crates were scattered across the concrete floor.
Zale eased Jared onto a makeshift seat, quickly inspecting his leg. The wound wasn't deep, but the bleeding needed to be stopped. He tore a strip from his own shirt, wrapping it tightly around Jared's thigh.
Jared hissed. "Damn, that hurts."
Zale didn't respond. His mind was already racing.
Who had sent the assassin? Was it connected to the people hunting them before? Or was it someone else entirely?
The café attack had been precise, calculated. It wasn't random. Someone knew their movements, their habits.
Jared groaned, leaning his head back. "So what now?"
Zale clenched his fists. "We find out who's behind this."
The hunt had begun.