An armored car and two pristine white trucks suddenly appeared, their tires crunching over the shattered asphalt. From the lead vehicle, a man emerged—a figure so utterly ordinary that he seemed a glitch in the chaotic scene.
He was of average height and build, with a clean-shaven face and neatly combed brown hair. A standard-issue white work suits did little to make him stand out, except for the 'Clean-Up Crew' patch on his shoulder.
He surveyed the scene with a practiced, weary eye, his gaze lingering on the splintered pavement and the half-collapsed wall of the school. He shook his head, a single, disappointed cluck of his tongue.
"Unbelievable. This is the third school this month."
"Alright, everyone, I'm Screw, the SSD Clean-Up Crew commander, and I'm here to retrieve that," he barked, his voice a sharp command as he pointed a gloved finger at the unconscious King.
Zen's tense expression softened, and a slow, easy grin spread across his face. "Screw, man! Long time!"
The commander's face, however, hardened into a deep scowl. "I should have known only you could mess up a place this badly," he grumbled, a weary disappointment in his voice. "Next time, could you try and finish the fight before it looks like a bomb went off? You know how much paperwork this is."
An agent near Shinji and Darius quickly whispered, "That's the SSD for you. They've got a division for everything."
Rose leaned close to Zen, her voice a low murmur meant only for him. "Looks like no one loves you. Must be lonely."
Zen's grin only widened as he leaned closer to her. "No," he replied, his voice a low, teasing growl, "not as lonely as you."
Screw, oblivious to their exchange, was already barking orders. "Okay, crew! Take all the injured to the SSD hospital fast, and get the deceased to the SSD Clean-Up HQ!"
A group of men and women, clad in the same black uniforms, emerged from the white trucks, their movements efficient and precise. They began to carry the agents who were too injured to walk, their faces grim but determined. But as they were now loading Reed's lifeless body into one of the trucks, a desperate cry tore from Shinji's throat.
Shinji, tears streaming down his face, lunged forward. "No! Let me go with Reed!"
Before he could take more than two steps, a crew member effortlessly intercepted him, a firm hand on his shoulder. "All of you present here are to go straight to the SSD HQ without stopping anywhere or talking to anyone," Screw commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.
A wave of confusion rippled through the agents. The jubilant victory they'd felt moments ago drained from their faces, replaced by bewildered shock. They glanced at each other, their expressions a canvas of unspoken questions: Why were they being treated like suspects instead of heroes? The excited cheers had died on their lips, replaced by a silent, growing apprehension.
As Rose looked at Zen, about to ask what was going on, she suddenly saw a chilling grin spread across his face. It was the same sly, knowing smile he'd worn just before sidestepping King's first charge. A cold shiver ran down her spine. She could sense it—a palpable, sinister energy. Something bad was about to happen again.
Five hours later...
The sun had long since abandoned the sky, leaving behind a bruised twilight that bled into the deepening black. Below the SSD HQ, in a stark, utilitarian underground room, the recycled air hummed with a metallic tang and the acrid scent of old fear. The atmosphere was a suffocating blanket, thick with the unsaid, the unknown. A group of SSD agents, survivors of the recent chaos, huddled together, their faces bruised, their uniforms torn, a canvas of exhaustion, confusion, and a simmering, dangerous outrage. Shinji, a now-conscious Cole, Darius, and the others murmured restlessly, their voices a low, agitated current in the small, oppressive space.
Rose's voice, sharp with a blend of exasperation and weary curiosity, cut through the din. "Okay, Zen, where exactly are we?" She looked at Zen, who stood a little apart, a stark contrast to the agitated agents. His form seemed to glow faintly, his recovery from his powers' toll complete, a testament to his Rift Walker blood. A calm, almost amused smile played on his lips.
"This?" Zen's voice was an unsettlingly light hum, almost a playful lilt. He gestured around the room with an open palm. "Oh, this is where Yamato tidies up. You know, loose ends and all that."
Rose's confusion deepened, a furrow appearing between her brows. "Tidies up? What do you mean?"
Before Zen could elaborate, the heavy metal door at the back of the room hissed, a hydraulic sigh, and swung open. Director Yamato strode in, his presence immediately commanding silence, his dark eyes sweeping over them. His assistant, Marcus, followed, a quiet shadow.
"Director," Shinji's voice was sharp, laced with suspicion, "why were we forced to come here? And where is Commander Reed?" Cole's silent, grim nod echoed the question.
Yamato's smile was thin, a chilling, predatory curve. "Commander Reed will no longer be joining us. You can collect his body after we are done here. That's if you leave here alive, of course."
A collective, sharp intake of breath hissed through the room. A wave of raw disbelief rippled through the agents, their faces twisting with unspoken questions, a dawning horror.
Darius, ever the pragmatist, stepped forward, his fists clenching at his sides. "So, I take it you have something you want us to do in order to leave here, Director? What is it?"
Yamato chuckled, a dry, humorless sound, his gaze sweeping over their shocked faces. He glanced at Marcus. "Look at them, Marcus. They act as if I'm some sort of monster." He turned back to the group, his smile widening slightly. "All I want from all of you is to sign a contract. A simple piece of paper stating that you will not disclose any information of what you saw today."
"Sir, but why?" an agent stammered, voicing the question that hung heavy in the air.
Shinji looked from the stammering agent to the others, his voice low and deliberate, cutting through the rising tension. "Think about it. Didn't you wonder why that Rift Walker called him," he said, pointing a finger at Zen, his gaze steely, "a monster? And why he was also able to keep up with, and defeat, that Rift Walker? And lastly, why he had fire coming out of his body?"
A cold, collective realization spread through the agents. They exchanged horrified glances, a slow, sickening understanding dawning in their eyes as the seemingly disparate facts Shinji laid out clicked into a terrifying whole. A murmur of fear began to spread.
Shinji's gaze locked onto the Director's, unflinching. "Am I wrong, Director, or does the SSD not want the public to know that they have a Rift Walker in their ranks?"
A roar of outrage erupted from the agents, a primal sound of fear and betrayal. They began to instinctively back away from Zen, eyes wide, some clutching their sidearms, their faces a mix of terror and revulsion.
Zen, however, remained utterly unperturbed. He stepped forward, his easy smile still fixed, a hand raised in a dismissive, almost jovial wave. "Now, now, is that your way of saying thank you for saving all your lives?" He tilted his head slightly, a spark of amusement in his eyes, as if their fear was a charming, if misguided, act. "It was quite the show, wasn't it?"
"Zen, step down!" the Director's voice cracked like a whip, sharp and sudden. Zen, still smiling, slowly retreated, his eyes never leaving the wary agents.
Yamato continued, his voice now colder, sharper. "Now that all of you know the truth, sign the contract."
Darius pushed forward again, his face hardened by a lifetime of resentments, his fists clenching and unclenching. "Sorry, Director, but a Rift Walker killed my parents, killed my girlfriend, and now they've killed my commander. And you expect us to keep living our lives as if there is no Rift Walker among us?" His voice rose, tinged with raw pain and defiance.
"Yes, that's exactly what I want you to do," Yamato replied, unyielding, his gaze fixed on Darius. "Think about it. What would have happened to you all if Zen wasn't there, hmm?"
"Sorry, Director, but I'm not partnering up with a monster. I'm out of the SSD," Darius declared, his words ringing with a defiant clang. Several agents immediately gathered behind him, shouting their agreement, their fear now replaced by a rebellious anger. Cole and Shinji, however, remained silent, their faces unreadable, their weapons still holstered.
Rose stepped forward, a different kind of anger burning in her eyes. "Sir, I've already accepted those terms. So what am I doing here?"
Yamato's cold smile returned, thin and sharp. "You're here to see the second job of a guardian. Anyone who sees Zen's powers who is not part of HQ must sign one of these contracts, or be killed on the spot to safeguard the SSD's name."
The agents behind Darius began to tremble, their shouts now replaced by a terrifying, absolute silence. Their defiance evaporated, replaced by cold dread.
"So if we don't comply with your rules, you're just going to have your dog there kill us?" Darius's voice cracked, the raw fear finally breaking through his defiance. He looked at Zen, who merely offered a wide, confident smile, as if this was all perfectly entertaining.
"All the Rift Walkers that are part of the SSD are unable to kill humans due to a nanochip implanted in their brains," Yamato replied, his voice calm and steady, almost bored.
Darius's face twisted into a triumphant, desperate grin. His hand shot to his hip, pulling out his short SSD sword and gun with a frantic, desperate energy. "So if that monster is out of the question, I just have to get past the two of you to get out of here, right? You underestimated us, Director, by not taking away our weapons!"
Rose moved instinctively to protect the Director, but Zen's hand, light as a feather, pulled her back. He offered her a reassuring, utterly confident smile. "Don't rush, Rose. The Director is as safe as he can be. Trust me, if I wanted to, I could have stopped them all with a flick of my wrist. But where's the fun in that?" Yamato stood there, completely unbothered, a subtle smirk playing on his lips.
"Okay, men, arm yourselves!" Darius bellowed, his voice taking on the desperate, urgent tone of a new, self-appointed commander. "We're getting out of here, and we're going to tell everyone what we just heard!"
As the agents armed themselves, the metallic click of safeties disengaging echoing ominously, Shinji and Cole stepped forward, holding their own weapons. Darius's face lit up with a surge of desperate joy. "Yes, Shinji! Glad to see you're on our team!"
Shinji's face was cold, almost predatory, a stark contrast to Darius's frantic excitement. His eyes, usually warm, were now chips of ice. "Listen, Darius. Even if Reed is now dead, I am and always will hold his ideas. The rule Reed always gave us was that the SSD's needs come before our own personal feelings. So if you try to harm the SSD's name and Director…" Shinji raised his weapon, the barrel steady. "…then I'm sorry, Darius, but you are now my enemy."