Night pressed on without hurry, wrapping the road in a dense darkness broken only by the steady beam of headlights cutting across the asphalt. Mark's car moved at a constant speed—too constant for someone on the run. Inside, the silence was almost absolute, interrupted only by the engine's hum and the faint creak of the steering wheel beneath his tense hands.
A map lay on the passenger seat, folded over itself several times. Mark had opened and closed it so many times the creases looked ready to tear. A spot had been marked in dark ink, near the edge of District 5. It wasn't an improvised destination. It never was.
His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror.
Two lights appeared far behind—small at first, but growing quickly. Mark frowned. He adjusted the wheel slightly and eased off the gas just enough not to draw attention. The patrol car closed in and, for an instant that felt endless, pulled alongside him.
The police car passed.
Mark let out a sharp breath, like he'd only just remembered he could breathe. His shoulders lowered slightly. Maybe it had been paranoia. Maybe he still had some room.
But then he saw it.
Red and blue lights flared on, washing the highway in intermittent flashes. The siren tore through the night's silence with brutal clarity.
"Black vehicle, pull over immediately," a voice boomed through a loudspeaker.
Mark clenched his teeth.
He accelerated.
It wasn't a desperate flight—more an instinctive, almost useless attempt to buy time. He jerked the wheel, searching for an exit, a turnoff, anything. The patrol car surged ahead and cut him off with a clean, precise maneuver. At the same time, more lights began to appear behind him. One. Two. Three more.
They were boxing him in.
Mark slowed until he came to a full stop on the shoulder. He shut off the engine. His hands stayed on the wheel, unmoving.
He didn't resist when the doors opened, when they made him step out. Not when they shoved him against the hood and snapped cuffs around his wrists either. His expression held no surprise, no fear—only exhaustion.
"You are under arrest for attempted murder," one of the officers recited. "Anything you say can and will be used against you."
Mark said nothing.
As they tightened the cuffs around his wrists, he lifted his gaze one last time toward the road. Straight ahead—lit by headlights and emergency strobes—a green sign stood at the roadside.
HIGHWAY 7
Mark stared at it in silence as they loaded him into the patrol car.
And as the sirens vanished down Highway 7, elsewhere in the city Aiden and Kael arrived in what looked like a quiet neighborhood—too quiet for everything they were dragging behind them. Neat rows of houses, dim lights glowing behind closed curtains, and silent streets that didn't seem to know the word chaos. The contrast was almost offensive.
Aiden drove with both hands firm on the wheel, though his focus was less on the road and more on not making Kael's condition worse. Kael lay back in the passenger seat, breathing hard. The color of his face wasn't fooling anyone anymore.
"Are you sure it's here?" Aiden asked, breaking the silence.
"Yeah…" Kael replied, voice low. "Here."
As Aiden tried to park, he misjudged the distance and the car bumped a trash can. The impact wasn't strong, but enough to pop the lid open and send a black cat bursting out, yowling as it vanished into the shadows.
"Careful," Kael growled. "It's my car."
Aiden gave an awkward smile.
"Sorry…" he said. "I don't even have my license yet."
Kael shook his head, but didn't press it.
"Doesn't matter… help me out, please."
Aiden got out fast, walked around the car, and offered his shoulder. Kael leaned on him with more weight than he looked like he had. Every step seemed to cost him twice as much.
They moved slowly to the front of one of the houses.
"By the way," Aiden said, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm Aiden."
"Kael," he answered after a second.
Aiden smiled to the side.
"I guess… nice to meet you. Weird way to meet someone."
Kael let out a brief laugh that turned into a pained grimace.
"Yeah," he said. "Especially when they throw a huge guy at you as an introduction."
"But look at the bright side," Aiden replied. "You're still here, right?"
Kael didn't answer. They'd reached the door.
He lifted his hand to knock—then stopped halfway. His breathing got heavier. He hesitated.
Aiden watched him for a few seconds.
"Hey…" he said. "You're bleeding out. There's no time for long decisions."
Without waiting for an answer, Aiden knocked.
"Hey!" Kael protested. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Trying to save you," Aiden said naturally.
"I was supposed to—"
He didn't finish.
The sound of a lock turning cut him off. The door opened slowly and warm light spilled over them.
A young woman stood in the doorway—blue eyes, dark hair, clearly messy from the hour. She wore comfortable clothes, and her expression shifted from sleepy to alarmed in seconds when she saw them.
Kael lifted his gaze slightly.
"Nicole…"
She looked him up and down, stopping on the blood, the forced posture, the stranger holding him up.
"Damn it, Kael…" she said. "What are you mixed up in now?"
Without waiting for an explanation, she stepped forward and helped Aiden support him better.
"Get inside. Now."
She ushered them in before either could say more, then shut the door behind them with a sharp thud.
Nicole went straight to it.
"Lay him on the table, please."
Aiden nodded and, without too much effort, lifted Kael and set him carefully on the metal surface.
"Like this?" he asked.
She gave a small nod, already focused. She pulled a first-aid kit from the cabinet beneath the counter and set it beside him. Then she turned to a small nearby cupboard, opened it, and took out a bottle of whiskey.
She popped it open with a crisp motion and handed it to Kael.
"You never took it," she said. "Drink. You'll need it."
Kael didn't argue. He took the bottle and swallowed a long pull, letting the alcohol burn down his throat.
Nicole disinfected the wound with precise movements, her expression serious, concentrated.
"Looks like the bullet went in and out clean," she said. "Didn't hit anything vital. You're lucky."
Kael clenched his teeth as the liquid touched raw flesh. A low grunt escaped him.
"A few stitches should do it," she continued. "But don't get excited. If you make any sudden moves, the sutures will tear."
She worked fast. Efficient. When she finished, she cleaned her hands and stepped back.
Aiden, who had been watching in silence, felt the adrenaline finally begin to drain. The fatigue hit all at once.
"Is he going to be okay?" he asked.
Nicole nodded.
"As long as he doesn't do something stupid," she replied. "If you see him pushing it, you stop him."
Aiden smiled slightly.
"Sure."
The exhaustion finally caught up to him.
"I'm gonna sit down for a bit…" he murmured, dropping into the armchair.
"Just gonna close my eyes for a second…"
He didn't finish.
His head tilted and he fell into a deep sleep almost instantly. His breathing slowed, steady and even. Beneath the suit—at the most damaged areas, especially the wings—the fabric began to regenerate slowly, almost imperceptibly, like a process working in silence.
Nicole watched for a second, then turned back to Kael. She took a few pills from the kit and handed them to him.
"Take these," she said. "Two every eight hours. They'll help with the pain."
Kael pushed himself up slightly and obeyed. He hesitated.
"Nicole… I—"
She cut him off before he could continue.
"No need," she said firmly. "We don't have anything to talk about anymore."
She looked at him calmly—no reproach, but no nostalgia either.
"We each went our own way," she added. "And look at you now. This… this is part of you. I can't force you to leave it."
Kael stayed silent.
Nicole changed the subject.
"Where did you get that kid?" she asked, glancing at Aiden. "He sat down and he's out cold. And that suit… that's not normal."
"I don't know," Kael said. "I only know his name is Aiden. And that if it weren't for him… I'd probably be dead."
She nodded, thoughtful.
She stood and switched off one of the lights.
"Get some sleep," she said. "It's almost two in the morning."
The house fell quiet.
Hours passed.
Darkness gave way to a faint gray, then to the first threads of light slipping through the window. Dawn arrived without a sound, as if it didn't want to bother anyone.
Aiden slept.
In his dream, the sky didn't exist.
Only the void.
He saw a moth falling from above, wrapped in fire as it tore through Earth's atmosphere. Its wings burned, shredded—yet it kept descending, clinging to an impulse it didn't understand. Farther out, in the vastness of the cosmos, something watched.
It had no defined shape.
Only a shadow.
And that shadow… smiled.
Terror pierced him like never before. It wasn't physical fear, not adrenaline. It was deeper. Primitive. The certainty that he had been seen.
Just as he tried to focus—
He woke up.
A firm hand rested on his shoulder.
"You slept all night," Kael said.
Aiden took a few seconds to react. He sat up slowly, blinking, letting his mind catch up. The armchair. The living room. Furniture he didn't fully recognize. The TV was on, broadcasting the morning news.
He exhaled.
It was just a dream.
"How are you?" he asked, turning toward Kael.
Kael sat on the couch across from him, back straight—though his posture betrayed discomfort.
"I'll live," he replied. "Even if not being able to move freely is annoying."
He studied Aiden closely.
"But you…" he added. "You're better than you should be."
Aiden glanced down. His wounds were closed—not perfect, there were still bruises, tender spots… but nothing compared to the night before.
"Yeah," he admitted. "My body heals fast. I don't really know how it works, but… it leaves me completely drained. This time it even healed less."
He shrugged.
"I guess there's some kind of limit. Saturation, maybe."
Kael frowned.
"Then tell me," he said. "Where did you come from? A lab? Are you an alien, a demigod, what the hell are you?"
Aiden leaned forward.
His expression shifted.
"Okay," he said. "I'll tell you."
Kael braced himself. He straightened. In his mind, possible scenarios flashed by: experiments, secret projects, mutations, worse things. He'd seen too much to rule anything out.
Aiden inhaled.
"Well…" he started. "The other day I was swimming in a pool. I swallowed some water by accident. There was a moth. Then I woke up inside a cocoon… and now I have powers."
He smiled at the end.
Kael didn't react.
Didn't blink.
Didn't move.
Silence stretched for several seconds, heavy with all the expectations that had just died right there.
"And that's it?" he asked at last. "That's all?"
Aiden nodded.
"That's all I know," he said. "Since then I just keep getting into trouble. But…" he added, shrugging, "I want to be the biggest influencer using this."
Kael raised an eyebrow.
"And why?"
Aiden held his gaze.
"To accomplish my real objective."
Before Kael could ask more, the newscaster's voice rose suddenly.
On the screen, the anchor wore a serious expression.
"Cases of people falling into comas continue to rise," she reported. "Some hospitals are already reporting overcrowding and lack of space, while authorities say the cause has not yet been identified."
The footage showed packed hallways and gurneys lined up.
From the top of the stairs, Nicole peeked out in her robe, pausing to listen.
The broadcast continued.
"And as breaking news, during the early hours of the morning the current district chief, Mark Halden, was arrested on Highway 7 after the release of classified documents linking him to the attempted assassination of candidate Andrick."
The image switched to Halden stepping out of a patrol car in cuffs, escorted by agents. His face remained blank.
"Though the investigation is ongoing," the reporter added.
The transmission moved on to other headlines.
Kael didn't take his eyes off the screen.
The images kept rolling—one after another—but he no longer seemed to be truly watching them.
"I don't like this…"
Aiden turned his head toward him.
"What?"
Kael leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his legs. He ignored the pain still running through his body.
"Everything," he said. "Too much happening at the same time. Bombings, an attempted assassination, people dropping into comas… all at once."
He fell silent for a moment.
"It doesn't feel natural."
Aiden frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"I could be wrong," Kael admitted, "but I don't believe in coincidences that big."
The screen changed again. Kael turned the TV off.
"And meanwhile," he continued, "the real problem is still out there."
"Cobra. If anyone knows what's happening on the streets, it's him."
He straightened a little more, as if making a decision.
"And last night we saw a way to get to him."
Aiden took only a second to understand.
"The guy with the tattoo…"
Kael turned toward him.
"He wasn't there by accident. That man wasn't just some guard."
Silence fell between them.
It didn't need to be said out loud.
"We have to go after him," Kael concluded.
And this time, it didn't sound like an idea.
It sounded like the only path left.