David Moore's broken body barely held together as they forced him into the light. His eyes fluttered open—just enough to see me.
"Waller…" he choked out, blood dragging down the corner of his mouth. "They… they're making you the villain."
My pulse hammered. "David, I'm getting you out—"
"No," he whispered through clenched teeth. "They already signed the papers. You killed me, Waller. That's the story."
The room spun.
A cold dread crawled up my spine.
Malik stepped forward with a satisfied smirk. "The evidence is airtight. Your fingerprints, your bullets, your trail. David dies tonight… on camera. And the world will know you as the agent who snapped."
I felt the noose tightening—not on my neck, but on my name, my future, my badge.
Ben tugged against his restraints beside me, panic cutting through his exhaustion. "Waller, don't listen. They framed me too. They'll bury you the same way."
Malik raised a gun to David's head. The room went dead silent.
"Time to finish the narrative," he said.
Something inside me snapped.
Before Malik could pull the trigger, David used the last of his strength—lunging forward, headbutting the guard beside him. The shot fired wild, hitting the ceiling. Chaos erupted.
I twisted my wrists hard—so hard the rope tore skin—but it loosened just enough. Ben saw it too.
"Now, Waller!" he shouted.
I slammed my shoulder sideways into the chair legs, snapping one free. Ben kicked his chair over, crashing into the guard by his side. Malik shouted orders, but the room was already a storm.
A second later, I was up—half-tied, bleeding, furious.
I grabbed the nearest guard, disarmed him, and fired two shots into the lights overhead. Sparks rained down, plunging half the warehouse into darkness.
Ben crawled toward me. I cut his ropes with the broken chair leg, and he shoved a fallen pistol into my hand.
"You good?" I asked.
"Ask me after we're alive," he muttered.
Gunfire erupted from every direction. We ducked behind crates, moving fast, low, desperate. Malik's men shouted orders, but the darkness was ours now.
Ben pointed to a side door. "Exit!"
We sprinted.
A bullet grazed my shoulder. Ben grabbed my jacket and yanked me behind cover. We traded fire—two guards down, a third stumbling back.
The warehouse alarm started blaring.
"We set off something," Ben hissed.
"Good," I said, breathing hard. "Let them know we're not dead yet."
We crashed through the door and into the cold night air. Rain hammered the pier as we ran, boots slamming the wood. Behind us, Malik shouted for pursuit.
Ben glanced at me, eyes fierce through the pain.
"They framed you for David. There's no going back now."
"Then we clear our names," I said.
"And take down the real mastermind," he added.
I nodded once, jaw tight.
"Together," I said.
Ben smirked. "About damn time."
The two of us ran into the night—injured, hunted, and framed for murder—but alive.
And ready to burn the truth out of every shadow that tried to swallow us.
---
Running with Ben at my side dragged a wave of memories back—long nights on surveillance, whispered jokes between missions, the unspoken trust that once held our partnership together. For a second, it felt like old times… like nothing had ever broken between us.
But then reality struck like lightning.
A flash—unwanted, sharp—reminded me of the truth I'd tried to bury:
Ben had once worked for The Eclipse.
Not just brushed against them. Not just been manipulated.
He had been one of them.
That betrayal still sat in my chest like shrapnel.
Knowing he had played a part in the very organization hunting us now should have slowed me down—should have made me question every step, every breath we took together. And it did. It twisted something inside me, made every glance at him feel like a gamble.
Yet I didn't stop.
Not even for a heartbeat.
Because betrayal or not, we needed each other alive.
Because I wanted answers.
Because I wanted closure—but not the kind that came with handcuffs, bullets, or another staged execution.
I wasn't stupid enough to be captured again.
Not by Eclipse.
Not by Malik's people.
Not by whoever else had their hands in this twisted game.
So I kept running—faster, harder—pushing past the sting in my lungs and the chaos in my head, determined to survive the night and drag the truth out of the shadows, no matter what it cost.
And whether Ben liked it or not, he was coming with me.
---
We ran until the distant hum of the city began to swell—first a faint vibration under our feet, then the familiar rise of voices, engines, and street performers fighting for attention. By the time we reached the edge of Times Square, the rush of chattering crowds and neon-soaked noise washed over us like a tide.
The chaos of the place almost felt safe.
Almost.
People moved around us, laughing, yelling, living their normal lives while we dragged blood, secrets, and danger in our wake. The bright screens above flickered with ads and headlines, lighting Ben's bruised face in sharp, shifting colors.
"We blend in here," Ben muttered, catching his breath. "Too many witnesses for them to try anything loud."
I nodded, though my pulse was still spiking. "That won't stop them from trying something quiet."
Ben gave a humorless smirk. "Since when did Eclipse do quiet?"
He wasn't wrong. The organization loved their messages loud, messy, and unforgettable—exactly why their interest in subtle manipulation unnerved me even more.
I scanned the area: tourists with cameras, kids arguing over street food, a street artist spray-painting a skyline. Normal. Perfectly normal. And yet every face felt like it could be one of theirs. Every shadow felt like a warning.
Ben stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You think they followed us?"
"They always follow," I said.
The weight of it settled between us. The past. The betrayals. The unfinished conversations.
And the danger tightening around us with every second.
"We need a plan," Ben said.
"For that," I replied, eyes on the shifting crowd, "we need answers first."
And there, under the blinding lights of Times Square, I realized something:
If Eclipse wanted us cornered… they'd soon find out what happens when the corner pushes back.
---
"Waller Greene, is everything okay?"
Serena's voice burst into my ear so suddenly I almost stumbled. It wasn't calm or measured like before—no, this time it was raw, shaken, threaded with panic. The kind of voice she only used when she thought she was about to lose someone.
And from the ragged heaving in her breaths, I knew she must've been shouting my name over and over while we ran. The signal jammer must've cut her off, leaving her blind, imagining the worst.
The fear in her voice wasn't professional—it was personal.
"Serena?" I answered, still weaving through the crowd with Ben. "You're back?"
"Back?" she practically gasped. "Waller, I've been trying to reach you for fifteen minutes! All I heard was gunfire and shouting—then nothing. Do you have any idea—" Her voice cracked for a split second. "I thought they… I thought you were gone."
The words hit me harder than the running had.
"We're alive," I said quietly. "Barely, but alive."
"We?" she repeated sharply. "Who's we?"
Before I could respond, Ben glanced at me, as if he already knew the storm I was about to walk into.
"Ben's with me," I said.
The silence that followed was colder than the night air.
When Serena spoke again, her voice was low and loaded with things unsaid. "You found him… or he found you?"
"He helped me escape," I said. "It's complicated."
"I bet it is," she muttered, anger simmering beneath the surface. "Waller, after everything he's done, after he worked for Eclipse—"
"He's not the enemy right now," I cut in.
"Are you sure?"
Her voice trembled—not with fear, but with conviction.
"Because Eclipse has agents everywhere. They infiltrate, manipulate, mimic voices—hell, they faked mine to lure you. And now you're running with the one person they used as a bridge to get to us in the first place?"
Ben looked away, jaw tightening. The guilt was written on him like fresh ink.
"Serena—" I started.
"No," she said, sharper now. "You need to listen for once. I nearly lost you tonight. We all nearly lost you. And now you're standing in Times Square with a man who vanished on the very day Eclipse made their first major move?"
Her breathing hitched again.
"Waller… I don't know what's happening over there. But something feels wrong. Really wrong. And until I see Ben with my own eyes, you cannot trust—"
"Serena."
I softened my voice.
"I hear you. But right now we don't have the luxury of choosing who we trust. We trust who we have."
Another pause—long, tense, emotional.
"Please," she whispered, just once. "Be careful. Not for the job… for me."
I swallowed hard.
Ben, hearing that last line, shot me a side-look—one filled with questions he didn't dare ask.
But I didn't respond. Not yet.
Because the lights of Times Square flickered suddenly—an unnatural stutter in the neon glow.
Ben froze.
I froze.
Serena's voice sharpened instantly.
"Waller… what was that?"
And all around us, the crowd's chatter broke into confused murmurs.
As if the city itself just blinked.
Or something… someone… had arrived.
---
The lights of Times Square didn't blink again—they glitched, like a pulse running through the entire city grid. Giant screens stuttered, advertisements froze mid-frame, colors bleeding into static.
The crowd murmured around us, confused, annoyed—but not scared.
Ben and I knew better.
Serena's breath hissed through my earbud.
"Waller… this isn't a power surge. This is them."
A chill crept down my spine.
Without warning, all the screens went black at once.
Every billboard.
Every storefront display.
Every glowing sign.
Times Square—one of the brightest places in the world—fell into a momentary, suffocating darkness.
Then a symbol flickered onto the largest screen overhead.
A sigil I'd never seen before—yet somehow recognized.
A black sun.
A circle engulfed in shadow.
Light swallowed by something deeper, hungrier.
Ben's entire body went rigid. "No… no, they wouldn't…"
"What is it?" I whispered.
He swallowed hard. "A warning."
The symbol shifted—glitching, multiplying across every screen like a virus.
A distorted voice cracked through the speakers, layered, genderless, impossible to place. It wasn't speaking English—or any language I recognized. Yet the meaning hit somewhere primal.
A message.
A promise.
A threat.
Serena's voice cut through the noise, panicked:
"Waller, get out of there! Now! That's not a broadcast… it's a scan."
The symbol flared white—too bright—too sudden.
Ben grabbed my arm. "Eyes down! Don't let it take your face!"
We ducked behind a hotdog cart as the light swept over the square like a search beam. People laughed, thinking it was some kind of stunt. A few even posed for selfies.
They had no idea the Eclipse was cataloging them.
Studying them.
Hunting through digital shadows for one face.
Mine.
The light passed.
The symbol faded.
Times Square roared back to life—ads flashing, screens normal, crowds oblivious.
But the message remained in the silence that followed.
Ben rose slowly, his face pale.
"They know you're alive," he whispered.
"And now… they know exactly where we are."
I felt a cold weight settle in my chest.
The Eclipse wasn't just watching.
They were coming.