Victor Hales' private office. Dimly lit. A widescreen monitor displays a live drone feed: smoldering rubble, collapsed beams, and bodies strewn across the remains of a bar. Flames crackle quietly through speakers. The drone hovers above the wreckage, sweeping its scanner over the chaos.
Victor Hales stands behind Jared Ellison, watching the footage with the ease of a man admiring artwork. Jared sits frozen in front of the monitor, his shoulders tight, eyes locked on the screen. He doesn't blink.
VICTOR (light, almost amused)
"Remarkable, isn't it? Precision flight path. Thermal scan. No hesitation in the heat signature sweep."
Jared says nothing. The color is gone from his face.
VICTOR (leaning closer)
"You're seeing the future, Jared. Clean, surgical dominance. No messy interrogations. Just… silence."
Jared finally finds his voice, strained and cracking.
JARED
"There were—those were our people. Our—"
VICTOR (interrupts gently, like a correction)
"No. They were liabilities. Temporary assets, disposable once compromised."
JARED
"But you don't even know who the leak was—"
VICTOR (straightens up, fingers clasped behind his back)
"And now I don't have to. The entire risk pool, neutralized. Efficient."
Jared's eyes twitch away from the screen. His fists clench.
JARED
"You made me send them there."
VICTOR
"I gave you an instruction. You chose obedience. Don't insult us both by pretending it was anything else."
A long pause. Jared's jaw tightens.
VICTOR (walking toward the window)
"You think this was punishment, Jared. It wasn't. This was education. The next time I ask something of you… you won't hesitate. Because now, you've seen what hesitation costs."
He turns back slowly.
VICTOR
"Tell me something. When they laughed tonight… when they raised their glasses… did you?"
JARED (quietly)
"I didn't go."
VICTOR
"No, you didn't. You stayed here — like I told you. You watched them walk into the fire. Obedient."
JARED (voice cracking)
"This wasn't just about the leak…"
VICTOR
"No. This was about message control. A leak is a symptom. Fear is the cure."
He walks back to Jared, calm as ever, placing a hand on the desk near Jared's.
VICTOR
"You're going to show up to work tomorrow. You're going to schedule grief counseling. You're going to say you stayed behind to finish a last-minute report. You're going to be the survivor who held the division together."
JARED (barely above a whisper)
"Why me?"
VICTOR (softly)
"Because you're not brave enough to defy me… and not weak enough to fall apart."
Victor pulls open a drawer and places a new access badge on the table.
VICTOR
"You'll be getting a promotion soon. Something with fewer people… and more doors that stay locked."
He begins to walk away, then stops just before the door.
VICTOR (cold, quiet)
"You should wash your collar, Jared. Guilt tends to stain."
Victor exits without looking back.
The drone feed flickers on the screen, casting faint shadows across Jared's face — a face caught between horror, shame, and something dangerously close to silence.
What's left of the bar. The once-lively venue is now a twisted skeleton of steel, glass, and scorched wood. Smoke curls into the night air through a shattered ceiling. Sirens wail faintly in the distance, growing louder.
Noah lies beneath a broken beam, half-covered in dust and blood—not all of it his own. His ears are still ringing. A sharp pain pulses in his ribs, but he's alive.
Above, the humming sound of the drone fades. It's moved on. The threat has passed… for now.
Noah doesn't move right away. He watches the red light vanish into the dark, heart pounding. Only when he's sure the drone is gone does he begin to stir.
NOAH (quiet, breathless)
"…Okay… okay…"
He pushes debris aside carefully, using his forearms to crawl out. Every movement hurts. His shirt is torn. A smear of someone else's blood runs across his jaw.
Bodies surround him — coworkers. Friends. Jayce. Misha. Faces he knows… but he doesn't know who's still breathing. He doesn't dare check. The sound of approaching sirens cuts through the fog in his head.
He forces himself to his feet, teeth gritted.
He moves like a ghost, hugging the edge of the destruction. His mind is in survival mode now — adrenaline dulling the horror just enough to function. He slips through a broken side door half-hinged off its frame, disappearing into the alley behind the building.
Once outside, he doubles over behind a dumpster, coughing violently into his sleeve. He scans the sky. No drones. Not yet.
His breath steadies. But his hands won't stop shaking.
NOAH (internal monologue)
They weren't just trying to find the leak… They were wiping the board clean. All of us.
He looks down at his palm — it's covered in ash and blood. He wipes it on his pants.
NOAH (internal)
I wasn't supposed to walk out of there. And I won't survive the next one if I don't start fighting back.
As emergency lights begin to bathe the block in flashing red and blue, Noah slips down the alley and vanishes into the night.
City streets. Midnight. Rain begins to fall in a soft drizzle, turning the ash on Noah's clothes into streaks of grime. Streetlights flicker as he limps down a narrow alley, one hand pressed to his side.
Each step is a test of will. His ribs scream with every breath. Blood mats the side of his shirt. The blast gave him more than bruises — but he's moving, and that's enough for now.
He cuts through a chain-link fence that sags on rusted hinges. Behind a burnt-out corner store, a group of homeless men huddle around a barrel fire, their faces half-lit by orange flame.
One of them, a man with a tangled beard and a military jacket too large for him, watches Noah with furrowed brows.
HOMELESS MAN
"You alright, brother?"
Noah doesn't respond. He keeps walking, limping past them like a ghost. His eyes are hollow. He knows if he opens his mouth, he might break — and he can't afford to fall apart.
HOMELESS MAN (calling out, softer)
"There's somethin' real wrong in the city tonight…"
Noah rounds the corner, leaving the warmth of the fire behind. His breaths come ragged. His clothes stick to him with sweat and blood. But the suit fragment tucked in his coat — the burnt Aerodyne logo barely visible — weighs heavier than all of it.
He pulls the hood of his jacket up as he disappears into the darkness between buildings. The city swallows him whole.
A surreal, dreamlike space. It's not quite real, but not fully abstract. The bar is burning, but there's no sound. Just the quiet crackling of invisible flames.
Noah stands upright, uninjured, dressed in his work uniform — untouched by the explosion. Around him are the ghosts of his coworkers, their faces calm, blank, eyes glowing faintly. Jayce, Misha… all watching him.
A familiar voice speaks behind him.
ELIAS MERREN (O.S.)
"You know what comes next."
Noah turns to see Dr. Elias Merren, his late mentor. He's seated at the bar, casually sipping a drink as if nothing ever happened.
NOAH
"You're dead."
MERREN (smiling faintly)
"And yet you're still listening."
The environment shifts — now they're in the Aerodyne lab. Noah sees himself in a reflection across the room — wearing the prototype suit, distorted by shattered glass.
MERREN
"They won't stop, Noah. They never planned to. You were never just an engineer. You were the proof."
NOAH (voice rising)
"I didn't ask for any of this!"
MERREN (calm, almost sad)
"Neither did I. But we both built something too dangerous to bury."
A drone's spotlight suddenly shines through the window. The ghost of Merren looks toward it.
MERREN
"If you're going to run… then run smarter. But if you're going to fight—"
The light flares and consumes the room—
MERREN (echoing)
"—fight like someone worth saving."
MERREN (echoing)
"—fight like someone worth saving."
The words ripple through the air as the spotlight engulfs the room — everything burns.
Now Noah is plummeting through a dark, endless sky. The only sound is wind roaring past his ears. He's fully suited in the Skybolt armor — but the thrusters are dead. The HUD flickers. Systems offline.
Below him, nothing but a shadowy, unlit city — no lights, no streets, no hope. A void waiting to swallow him.
NOAH (yelling, voice cracking)
"Come on… COME ON!"
He slams the repulsors, hits the thruster controls — nothing. The wind rips around him as he spins, helpless.
The suit begins to crack. Tiny fractures run through the helmet visor.
Noah stares straight down, frozen in fear.
And then… he closes his eyes.
Silence.
Everything slows.
As his body finally hits the ground, the world doesn't shatter — instead, it goes pitch
Noah gasps awake, body tense, breath shallow. Sweat clings to his skin. He's no longer in the suit — just bandages, blankets, and pain. The sound of soft rain outside. A faint humming from a nearby space heater.
And then — footsteps approach.
Imani's modest apartment, dimly lit, early morning light creeping through half-closed blinds. A quiet hum of a space heater buzzes in the corner. The faint scent of antiseptic lingers in the air.
Noah wakes with a sharp inhale, eyes darting around the unfamiliar room. His torso is bandaged. Pain throbs through his side and shoulder. He tries to sit up — groans — and collapses back into the mattress.
A calm voice cuts through the haze.
IMANI (O.S.)
"You're lucky. Any deeper and that shrapnel would've nicked your lung."
Noah turns. In the doorway stands a woman in her late 30s or early 40s. Black, poised, eyes sharp but not unkind. She's wearing loose scrub pants and a faded university hoodie. A nurse's badge is clipped to her waistband.
NOAH (raspy)
"…Where am I?"
IMANI
"My place. Found you bleeding out near Belmont and Knox. You were half-frozen and two blocks from collapsing."
NOAH
(careful) "You… took me in?"
IMANI
"You'd rather I left you there?"
Noah doesn't respond.
IMANI (sitting at the edge of the couch)
"Didn't ask questions last night, and I'm not gonna start now. You needed help. I helped. That's it."
She pours him a glass of water, sets it on the small table beside him.
IMANI (softening)
"You got a name?"
NOAH
"…Noah."
IMANI
"Imani. You'll be okay, Noah. But you're not going anywhere until that fever breaks and those stitches settle."
She stands up and heads to the kitchen. Noah watches her go — cautious, but something about her feels… safe. Not comfortable. But real.
His hand moves to the bandage on his side. Beneath it, he can feel the pain — the reminder of the night before. The drone. The fire. The loss.
NOAH (softly, to himself)
"…Thank you."
Imani doesn't turn around. But she hears him.
IMANI (O.S.)
"Don't thank me yet."
IMANI (softer)
"You must've crawled out of hell."
She watches him for a moment, noticing the flicker of hesitation in his eyes.
IMANI (cont'd)
"Why not go to a hospital?"
Noah shifts slightly, avoiding her gaze.
NOAH (quietly)
"Couldn't risk it."
IMANI (suspicious but calm)
"…Someone looking for you?"
He doesn't answer.
NOAH (measured)
"Depends who's asking."
IMANI (tilting her head)
"I'm asking because I saved your life. Because I had to scrub blood out of my rug at 3 a.m. Because I don't like surprises in my living room."
NOAH (quietly)
"If I told you, I'd be putting you in danger."
IMANI
"And yet here you are."
A brief silence. She watches him, eyes sharp.
IMANI (softly)
"Listen, Noah… I don't know what kind of storm you're caught in. But I've patched up gang members, runaways, cops who didn't want to file a report. I've seen what fear looks like. And I've seen what guilt looks like."
She leans forward.
IMANI (cont'd)
"You're carrying both."
NOAH (looking away)
"I didn't expect anyone to make it out."
IMANI (nodding slowly)
"That makes two of us."
Noah exhales, the weight of the moment pressing down on his chest. Imani sits back, arms folded, her expression softening slightly.
IMANI (quietly)
"I'm not here to judge you. I just need to know if I should be worried."
NOAH
"You should."
IMANI (without flinching)
"Then I'll keep my door locked and my eyes open."