i
---
The world had moved on.
Mourning turned into memorials. Memorials turned into government committees. Jay watched every announcement with a critical eye, noting who spoke the loudest and who said nothing at all.
Omni-Man was one of the quiet ones.
A hero in mourning, they said. A grieving friend. The only survivor.
Jay wanted to vomit.
Mark, too, had taken it hard. He hadn't been seen in public since the day after the Guardians' funeral. Not in costume, not in street clothes. The media called it respectful. Jay called it the calm before the storm.
He kept track of Mark's activity through layered satellite paths, civilian reports, and vector traces from the sky. The kid had been flying—erratically. Faster than before, but sloppier too.
Grief had a direction.
And it made people dangerous.
Jay knew that better than anyone.
---
He had to step carefully now.
His last few appearances had drawn more than whispers. There were photos, grainy and distant, but clear enough to show someone operating outside GDA sanction. Even the Whisper boards debated whether he was a vigilante or a new class of villain.
The Drift.
Jay let the name ride. It gave him room to maneuver.
His face was still unknown. He never stuck around long. No capes, no emblems, no speeches. Just action.
But that anonymity wouldn't last forever.
He needed a base. A real one.
And allies.
Darkblood was a wildcard—useful, but secretive. Jay respected that. Trusted him, even, in a weird way. But the demon wasn't going to be around forever. Cecil would catch on.
He needed someone who could play in the light while he moved through the dark.
That's when he remembered Amber Bennett.
---
She wasn't powered. Not rich. Not in government. But Amber had something more valuable wwwthan all of that:
She paid attention.
In the show, she figured out Mark's secret well before he told her. She connected dots that others missed. Sharp, principled, brave. She didn't back down from danger. She ran toward it.
If anyone could help him build a ground-level intel network, it was her.
So he found her.
Well, followed her.
It took time. Research. Patterns. He watched from a distance, made sure she wasn't being watched herself. Then, one afternoon, he slipped a note into her messenger bag while she was at a bookstore.
"I'm not a threat. But we need to talk. You notice things. That makes you dangerous. And I need dangerous people. Meet me tomorrow, 5PM. Roof of the old planetarium."
She didn't show.
Not the next day.
But the day after, she was waiting for him.
---
"You've got five minutes," Amber said, arms folded. "Make them count."
Jay stepped from the shadows slowly. No sudden moves. Hoodie up, face partly covered.
"You know something's wrong," he said. "The Guardians. Omni-Man. None of it adds up."
She didn't flinch.
"And you're the answer?"
"No," Jay said. "But I've got questions no one else is asking. And I've got tools no one else is using."
Amber's eyes narrowed. "Why me?"
"Because you see through lies. Because I need someone grounded. And because, eventually, Mark's going to need you. Even if he doesn't know it yet."
That hit.
She didn't say yes. Not right away.
But she started asking questions.
And that was enough.
---
Jay moved deeper into the web. Through Amber's contacts, he began building an underground signal net—burner forums, QR tags on walls, encrypted dropboxes. Nothing traced. Nothing centralized.
He called it Vectorline.
It would be his eyes.
His warning system.
The GDA wouldn't see it coming until it was already inside their own walls.
---
Then came the day he met Eve.
It wasn't planned. She was chasing a rogue weather manipulator through the industrial district. The guy had stolen a prototype from a climate research center and was using it to unleash tornadoes.
Jay arrived in the middle of it. Saw her struggling. Wind slicing through buildings like razors. Civilians trapped.
He acted without thinking.
A redirected dumpster lid became a spinning shield. A crumbling fire escape was reinforced with a vector push. Eve looked up mid-fight, startled to see him.
Together, they brought the guy down.
No words. No thank yous. Just teamwork. Instinctual.
Afterward, she landed beside him, panting.
"You're The Drift."
Jay didn't confirm.
But he didn't deny it.
"Why help?" she asked.
"Because people were going to die."
She looked at him then—not just saw him, but saw him. Something in her gaze softened.
"You don't trust the system."
"Do you?"
"…No."
That was the beginning.
They didn't meet regularly. But when they did, they shared info. Quietly. Carefully.
Eve was powerful—but cautious. Jay respected that.
And she respected him.
Even if neither of them said it aloud.
---
Jay was building something now. Not a team. Not yet.
But a network.
A scaffolding for resistance.
He knew Nolan would make his move soon. The Viltrumite nature was patience wrapped in brutality. A smiling countdown.
And Jay refused to be unprepared.
So when he hacked into a minor satellite feed and found coe d messages routed through the Pentagon to a deep-black server, he smiled.
Because he had a new target.
D.A. Sinclair.
The man who built Reanimen.
It was time to pay him a visit.
---
End of Chaptepter 5