The sun leaked through half-closed blinds, lining the floor with pale gold. Jason laying sprawled on his back, one arm across his face. His phone buzzed against the nightstand—an alarm he'd already snoozed three times.
From the kitchen came the hiss of eggs frying in a pan and the faint clatter of plates.
"Jason! Breakfast's ready!" his mom called.
He groaned, rolling over. His mouth felt dry, his brain still foggy from late-night gaming. After a few seconds, he sat up, legs dangling over the edge of the bed. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and checked the time.
11:03 AM.
He sighed. Another lazy summer day. Not quite much to do, with all this unbearable heat, boredom, and the thought knowing this is the few months a years where i don't have any deadlines to worry about.
Jason dragged himself to the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, then wandered into the kitchen in a wrinkled t-shirt and basketball shorts. The house smelled like eggs, toast, and coffee.
His dad sat in his usual seat by the TV, hunched forward, eyes narrowed at the screen. The news anchor's voice was clipped, somber.
"—Oakland Street residents remain shaken after the disappearance of three teenagers late last night. Police are urging calm and citing the possibility of a runaway situation, though several witnesses claim to have heard—"
Click.
The screen went dark as his dad hit the remote and placed it down a little harder than necessary.
Jason frowned, sliding into his seat. "What was that about?"
"Same junk every year," his dad muttered, taking a sip of coffee. "Kids vanish, cops do nothing, and the media spins ghosts and goblins."
His mom raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she slid plates across the table. Jason took his—eggs, toast, sausage—but his appetite felt distant. He chewed slowly, letting the food sit on his tongue.
It tasted… muted. Like someone had drained all the flavor out of it.
"You alright?" asked his little brother, seated across from him, head buried in his tablet.
Jason blinked. "Huh?"
"You're staring at your eggs like they did something to you."
He smirked. "I'm good. Just tired."
But that wasn't it. The taste of food had been fading for days now. So had smells. Sounds seemed duller. He thought it might be a cold, or burnout, or just him overthinking. But somewhere deep down, the same thought lingered:
Something was changing.
⸻
A few Hours later.
The sun dipped below the rooftops by the time Jason left the house. A humid breeze rolled through the neighborhood, thick with car exhaust and street food. The sky glowed orange, already bleeding into purple.
He met up with Manny, Vic, and a few others from campus. Friday night was bar-hopping night, and tradition was tradition—even if the drinks were overpriced and the music too loud.
Jason tried to relax, to lose himself in the comfort of routine. He laughed at Vic's terrible pickup lines, downed shots with Manny, and tried not to gag at the syrupy taste of cheap rum. They drifted between bars like ghosts, the night buzzing around them with neon signs and drunken whoops.
But Jason kept zoning out.
He'd stare at a spinning ceiling fan. Or the dark corner of a room. Or a girl's reflection in the mirror—and for a split second, he'd see her eyes bleed black.
"Hey." Manny nudged him. "You good?"
Jason shook himself out of it. "Yeah. Just caught up in my head."
"You sure? You've been kinda—" He gestured vaguely, "—Jason but, like, off-brand Jason."
Jason chuckled and tossed back another drink. "Summer haze, bro. It'll pass."
But by the third bar, around 1:30 AM, he felt like vomiting. The air felt thick. His skin prickled.
"I need a sec," he muttered, slipping out a side door into the alley behind the bar.
It was quiet there. Too quiet. The world muffled, like cotton pressed against his ears.
The brick wall under his hand felt ice-cold despite the heat.
He doubled over, retching. Nothing came out.
And then—he heard it.
A sound behind the dumpster. Wet. Labored. A sucking, ragged breath.
Jason slowly turned, heartbeat accelerating. "Yo? Who's there?"
No answer.
He squinted into the shadows.
And then—
A shape lunged.
But it didn't hit him. It entered him.
Like liquid flame down his throat. Like barbed wire wrapping around his spine. He staggered back, screaming, clawing at his skin.
He wasn't alone in his body anymore.
He could feel a visitor filling up his lungs, filling up every crevice in his body.
"help me i can't breathe" Jason tried gasping out, but he couldn't produce any sound.
⸻
Back at the bar's front entrance, Manny lit a cigarette. "Where the hell's Jason?"
He wandered around the block, annoyed, until something caught his eye—a wallet, lying near the alley's entrance.
He picked it up and stared.
Jason's.
Something felt…wrong. A presence. Like the alley itself was watching him.
Goosebumps crawled up Manny's arms.
He didn't go in.
He ran.
⸻
Four blocks away, a scream tore through the night.
A young woman—maybe college-aged—stumbled backward in her heels, panic flooding her face. A white-haired figure crouched low in the shadows. Jason—but not Jason.
His hair was ghost-pale. His eyes glowed with crimson light, alive with something ancient and violent. Black bone-like armor wrapped along his face and jaw, almost like a devil's mask half-formed.
He exhaled—and steam rolled off his shoulders.
The girl turned and ran.
He pounced.
But just before he reached her—
Snap.
Glowing blue threads—barely visible—whipped from the shadows, binding his limbs mid-air and yanking him to the side. He crashed into a dumpster, metal denting with the force.
From the rooftop above, a woman with long silver hair crouched, fingers dancing in the air like a puppeteer.
"I've got him bound!" she shouted.
Jason snarled, his voice a distorted echo. He tried to rise, but more threads coiled around his ankles and neck.
Two more figures emerged from the shadows—one holding a strange curved staff, the other tall and composed with sharp eyes.
The tall one—the squad leader—spoke first. "His aura's unstable."
The staff-user checked a handheld device. "He's rising fast. Beyond first-grade. If he spikes again—"
"He's S-Rank," the silver-haired woman muttered. "I say we end it now."
"No," said the leader. "Not yet. We should take him to see Renji."
The other two flinched.
"You serious?" the woman asked. "It's standard protocol to exterminate any threat on the spot."
"Protocol doesn't matter," the leader snapped. "You don't come across power this often. I wouldn't wanna see it go to waste."
Jason roared—and the threads snapped.
He lunged at the silver-haired woman, claws bared. She barely dodged, but not cleanly—a slash across her thigh.
"NOW!" the staff-user shouted.
But the leader stepped forward calmly.
He raised his head—and locked eyes with Jason.
Jason froze.
And then his mind shattered. A horrible sight he couldn't even fathom.
Screams—his own, and others. Hallways covered in blood. Eyes gouged out. Teeth where teeth didn't belong. Endless, suffocating fear.
His body collapsed.
He hit the pavement.
Beginning to convulse he started to revert back to normal.
He fainted.
"Alright let's bring him in." Said the Squad Leader. "Let's wait on submitting the report too."
⸻
Jason woke up cold.
Tied to a metal chair in a concrete room. Fluorescent lights buzzed above, casting everything in sterile white.
His head throbbed. His throat burned. His body felt alien.
A man sat across from him—lean, blonde, maybe mid-20s. Hoodie under tactical gear. Smirk like he'd just gotten away with something.
"Morning, sunshine," he said.
Jason's mouth was dry. "Wh…who are you?"
"Renji. I'm your welcoming committee."
He stood and stretched like he'd just woken from a nap.
"You gave us quite the scare last night. Getting possesed, attempted murder, engaging with Public Safety... The usual fun."
Jason pulled at the bindings. "Where am I?"
"Somewhere safe. Or, at least, somewhere they feel safe from you."
Renji leaned against the wall, watching him carefully.
"Isaac's team brought you in. Normally, possession cases get erased on sight. Public Safety doesn't take chances with unknowns."
"…Then why am I still alive?"
"Because I vouched for you. I went through a lot of trouble to keep you here." He shrugged. "Not because I like you. But you might be useful." He laughed.
Jason stared.
"You were possessed. Fully. But when Isaac dropped you, you came back as a human. that aura from last night is still there, but you're conscious as a human."
He crossed the room and crouched in front of Jason.
"No one's seen that before."
Jason tried to speak, but the weight in his chest wouldn't lift.
"So here's the offer," Renji said. "I couldn't cancel your execution but i managed to postpone it. So six months. You work with me. Under supervision. You hunt devils, learn control. If you lose it again, or your aura spikes like last night—"
He drew a finger across his throat.
"You get listed. S-Rank threat. No second chances."
Jason nodded slowly.
"One last thing," Renji added. "Those feelings you had—the rage, the hunger—you have to be careful ."
Jason looked up.
"Devils feed on emotion. They amplify it. You feel too much? You become the thing inside you."
Jason swallowed.
Renji stood up. "So you'd better learn to suppress what you feel. Fast."
He turned and walked toward the exit, pausing at the door.
"Welcome to Public Safety."
The door clanged shut behind him.
Jason sat alone, heart pounding in his chest.
Something inside him was still awake.
Watching.
Waiting.
To be continued.