*Ring* *Ring*
"I've found him."
I sat up in bed, eyes half-shut, the world still fogged from sleep.
"Does he match the description?" I muttered. "I'm tired of chasing ghosts."
"That was before I was assigned to assist you," the voice on the line replied, calm and confident. "He doesn't match the file, but it's him. I'm sure of it."
"Yeah, I know. No one knows him better than you. But I still don't understand what makes the target so special. Who is he? Why all this effort?"
"Well, if I remember correctly, the contract stated clearly: 'No questions asked.' Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think you're asking questions."
"Well, if your cult gave me something better to work with—and not just rare sightings like he's Bigfoot—I wouldn't ask."
"Firstly, we're not a cult!"
"Oh, brother, here we go again," I muttered under my tired breath.
"How many times do I have to tell you? We're a society. A sect. A body. A faction. A clique." He said this happily and confidently, like he'd been waiting for an excuse to lecture me.
"What? But that's basically... you know what? Never mind." I sighed.
His location pulsed on the map, and I found myself staring, contemplating my life choices.
"Give me twenty minutes," I said. "And stay low."
The morning breeze slipped through the cracked window, soft and tempting. I pushed the urge aside, washed up quickly, and pulled on a clean black suit.
'They may be a cult, but they issue some fine suits.'
The elevator was descending when I got to it. I sighed in frustration and glanced at my watch — fifteen minutes left. Not enough time.
I exhaled sharply, closed my eyes — then teleported into an alley.
Stray cats scattered at my sudden arrival.
I took the alleyways to get to the airbus station. The morning rush hour felt different. Normally it's busy, but today was something else — one wrong move and you'd get swept away.
The alleys felt different too — dirtier, walls scrawled with neon-lit graffiti of a cracked sun.
I passed by scrawny women and children — beggars hiding to avoid the morning patrols.
A body. 'Wait, isn't that my neighbor? What on earth happened yesterday?'
Beggars reached out, but I turned them away. Help one, and the rest swarm you like roaches — and if they don't, they bleed the one you did help.
Only hate and hopelessness exist in places like this.
I reached the station and took the airbus toward the center of Kanto Haven. I've probably taken the airbus hundreds of times, but the view manages to take your breath away every time — highways jammed with sleek cars, flight paths crisscrossing the skies with winged men, airbuses, and drones soaring between towering skyscrapers that stretch into the clouds like monuments to ambition. A megacity both overwhelming and breathtaking.
I landed and checked my arcpad, but the pulse was gone.
"I told him to stay low," I muttered. "Damn kids."
I traced his last known location and it led me to a small restaurant tucked between two skyscrapers. Honestly, I'd probably never notice this place with how small it looks compared to the other buildings.
I approached the restaurant, but I sensed it was empty. Against my better judgment, I circled around the back, approaching the only presence I could sense.
The alley behind the restaurant was narrow, lined with dumpsters and reeking of grease, old refuse, and blood. My instincts screamed that something was off, telling me to turn back.
'There's no point in this. It's not too late to walk away. They'd want me to leave this life behind, to be happy.'
But I pushed the thoughts down and reached for that familiar fire — the flames of hatred. One day it might consume me, but today it consumes my fear. It gives me courage. Purpose.
I sharpened my senses. What mattered was the threat ahead. There was most likely a trap, and I couldn't afford a mistake.
I sensed the person creeping up on me from the shadows but I decided to play along, if I get lucky I might catch him lacking.
I pretended to scan the kitchen through its window.
I reached for the door, but then I heard a rustling behind me.
I turned fast, arms up, braced for impact.
A rat darted past my feet and vanished into the shadows.
"Fuck." I lowered my stance, pretending to be annoyed but secretly impressed with my acting skills.
Then the kitchen door creaked open.
I turned instinctively — rookie mistake.
The stalker didn't let it go unpunished.
I felt it before I saw it — a faint shift in the air, a movement. I turned just as a boy lunged at me, silver flashing in the dim light.
He was fast — unnaturally fast — but nothing I couldn't handle. I sidestepped as he thrust the knife toward my ribs. I caught his hand, but he dropped the knife to slip free of my grip.
I looked down at the fallen blade and began to laugh.
"A table knife? Really?" I chuckled, clutching my ribs.
"Shut the fuck up!"
That gave me time to assess my stalker. His eyes burned with intent — pale blue, sharp, focused. Blond braids tied back, his skin a smooth honey-brown that caught the sun and gave it back in gold. Dressed like a waiter.
His stance also told me a lot.
He took an old popular boxing style, maybe something he saw on TV. I didn't think there'd be any kicks coming from him.
He was probably sizing me up, so I dropped my guard — throwing him off his assessment.
"Don't underestimate me. I took down a Sentinel just yesterday," he said coolly.
'Bluff. A very bad one at that.'
We circled each other for a beat. One step. Two.
Then suddenly he threw two — no, three — wrong again, five consecutive jabs toward my face. I dodged each one, weaving left to right.
'Damn, he's fast. So he's probably a speed type metahuman, but low tier'
I ducked low, hoping to end it quickly. Rising fast, I launched an uppercut toward his jaw.
But I must've wasted some motion — he read me. He hopped backward, barely dodging. He slipped, but flawlessly executed a barrel roll to get back on his feet.
I didn't give him time to recover. I lunged forward, throwing a fist toward his face. It landed clean on his nose. He didn't fall, so I booted his left knee, hyperextending it — almost dislocating it.
But instead of dropping, he spun, driving an elbow into my solar plexus.
I managed to guard, but the impact sent me flying back, slamming into the wall. I hopped back to my feet.
'There's something up with this boy. He really doesn't want to lose. What is he fighting for? Why is he even fighting? This boy is… interesting.'
"Is this how you beat the Sentinel? By choking him with desperation? You'd have lost that knee if I didn't release it," I taunted.
"Seeing as you're trying to kill me, I thought I'd get creative," he said, picking his guard back up.
"Boy, your instincts are sharp, but you've got one thing wrong…" I paused, catching his attention for the first time. "If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead."
"You think I'm going to fall for that bluff? I'm not the one who just went flying." His voice was confident, but he couldn't have been more wrong.
"Bluffing? You little shit — you don't look like you can dodge a bullet. I'd just shoot you." I smiled, but his eyes stayed unwavering.
'There really is something to this boy. Fuck, I need reign in my curiosity. Last thing I need is a telepath picking this up. And I'm already too deep in this cult's business than I prefer.'
"Then why are you after me?"
"You'd have to ask Blake that. Where is he?"
Then he lunged again, leading with his left leg — going after my knee, probably for revenge. And he did just that.
But I caught his leg with my right hand, lifting it. I raised my elbow, aiming to drop it across his knee.
But he wasn't planning to take it lying down.
He tucked his right knee, lifted off the ground, rotated his hips, and swung his leg high over my head, dropping it down like a hammer. I caught it with my left hand.
With both his legs in my grip, he hung suspended, but physics wouldn't let me hold him forever. He started to fall.
Then I had an idea, and a grin spread across my face.
I gathered my strength, used his momentum, and flung him into the wall. His back slammed into it, leaving a body-sized crater. The impact knocked the wind out of him. He coughed blood and fell unconscious.
I sighed in relief and sat on the floor beside him.
I should probably restrain him now. But there's no way he's getting up from that, right?
"No fucking way!" I exclaimed, springing to my feet.
Predictably, he stood too. Skipping his guard entirely, he lunged with an open palm.
I didn't know what he was planning, and I didn't want to find out. I hopped backward, further than before, but he closed the distance instantly.
This wasn't the same boy as before. His eyes burned with fire. Was that always there?
'I slammed him into concrete. How is he still conscious? Did I misread his ability?'
And then I heard it: a flicker.
And then I felt it: the heat.
And then I knew: it was too late.
A blast of searing flame erupted from his hand — straight at me.
The alley exploded in blue fire. Heat seared, smoke clawed my lungs, shadows twisted along the walls.
And for a moment, there was nothing but smoke, flame, and blinding light.