The air shimmered as a faint blue hue flickered around Hope's outstretched hands. The nullifier field, standard protocol for subduing volatile metas, rippled into effect, creating a suppressive dome meant to cut Rafael's access to his power.
It had worked on dozens before. Even a few at Helix Point.
But not Rafael Azar.
Hope didn't speak. He'd already tried words on others like Rafael. Words hadn't saved anyone back at the facility. Words wouldn't save the next town if he hesitated.
So instead, he acted.
The nullifier closed in with a quiet hum.
Rafael blinked up at him through the haze, face neutral, almost confused. Then… a twitch. Not fear. Not anger.
Curiosity.
And then, Hope moved. So did Rafael.
Faster than Hope expected. Way faster. No fear in his body. No hesitation. Just raw, unfiltered instinct.
Rafael launched upward, leaping higher than a normal human ever should, nullifier field be damned. He grabbed Hope by the cape mid-air, twisted in the sky, and yanked him down with all the force his inhuman strength could summon.
The two figures crashed into the street like a meteor strike.
The asphalt cratered beneath them. Three separate roads cracked, spider-webbing out like broken glass underfoot. Cars flipped from the shockwave. A fire hydrant burst twenty meters away, sending water into the dark sky.
Hope groaned, stunned for a moment, wind knocked clean out of him, armor dented across the ribs. No one had ever brought him down that fast before.
But when he rolled to push himself up, his fingers curling into the jagged street—
Rafael was gone.
Not even a trace.
Not a sound.
No fleeing footsteps. No shadows. Just—
Gone.
His body dissolved into a mist of black tendrils, slipping into the shadows cast by the destroyed streetlamps and debris. He became one with them. The night welcomed him like an old friend.
He wasn't just hiding in darkness. He was the darkness.
Every sliver of shadow, beneath cars, under rubble, inside cracked walls, became a highway. The world above slowed as Rafael moved between layers of reality, sinking deeper with every step, sliding through concrete and steel like water.
Seconds later, he emerged again, miles away, through the shadow cast by a crooked alley behind a deserted church.
He stumbled forward, shirt torn, skin slick with blood not his own, grin too wide to be sane.
That was when he saw him.
A silhouette leaning against the wall.
An old man. There was weight in his presence. His black coat rippled despite the stillness of the air, and his dark skin seemed carved from obsidian beneath the moonlight. Silver rings lined his fingers, and a simple, polished cane rested in his right hand.
Eyes like dead stars glowed from his face, not with light, but with memory. Ancient and calculating.
Rafael froze. His fingers twitched with leftover madness. His mouth half-open, breath still ragged from the massacre.
The man didn't flinch. Instead, he smiled.
"That… was beautiful, child." His voice was velvet, wrapped in thunder. "A masterpiece. The chaos, the precision… the art of it."
Rafael tilted his head, grin still flickering at the corners. "Who the hell are you?"
The man stepped forward, his cane tapping the cobblestone gently. "You may call me Lucien."
He stopped just out of reach.
"I've watched you for a long time, Rafael. You were made to be controlled, but you've proven them all wrong. You're beyond control. You're evolution."
Rafael's grin twisted. "They tried to make a weapon. They failed."
"No," Lucien said. "They succeeded. They just didn't understand what kind of weapon you were."
He extended a gloved hand.
"Join me, Rafael. Let me show you a world not of cages, but of war. Where gods walk, and monsters like us no longer hide in shadows."
Rafael looked at the hand.
He didn't take it.
But the idea, the seed, was planted.
"Nah.."
…
Seven years later…
The safehouse was a run-down, two-story cabin tucked deep within the forest, surrounded by towering pine trees and the ever-present scent of moss and wet bark. An old generator buzzed faintly in the background, providing minimal power. Inside, a fire cracked weakly in the hearth.
Bob sat by the fireplace, arms crossed, leaning back in a creaky wooden chair. His eyes stared into the flames, unmoving, but his mind was a whirlwind of buried screams and black halls. Alex was sprawled on the couch behind him, fiddling with the outdated comms unit Jack had left behind, now completely disconnected from anything.
It was quiet. Until Alex broke it.
"You were trembling in your sleep again," Alex said.
Bob didn't flinch. "Was I?"
"You were screaming at some point," Alex added, glancing over.
Bob sighed, his voice low. "Nightmares."
"Was it a nightmare?" Alex said, serious now.
Bob didn't answer.
A silence stretched between them, long and heavy.
Then Alex leaned forward, arms on his knees. "You never really told me. About your powers. You told me about what you can do, hell, I've seen it. But I mean how does it feel?"
Bob finally looked at him.
"The darkness isn't just… shadow. It's something else. It listens. It whispers. It feeds on fear, mine, others'. It wraps around my thoughts. Sometimes I guide it," he paused, "sometimes it guides me."
"That's terrifying," Alex muttered.
Bob gave a humorless chuckle. "It should be."
Alex was quiet for a beat. "But you're still in control."
Bob turned his gaze back to the fire. "I used to think so."
That silence returned, heavier now.
Then Bob added, softly, "You asked me once why I don't use my powers more. It's because every time I do, I get closer to being him again. Rafael Azar. That kid who killed hundreds. The weapon they built in a lab. The thing Hope had to stop."
Alex's voice was steady, if a little defiant. "You're a good guy now, I feel it."
Bob didn't reply immediately. Instead, he stared into the fire, watching shadows dance.
And then he said, "I hope you're right, kid."
Alex stood, stretched, and walked to the door. "I'll go check the perimeter again. Just in case."
"Don't wander too far."
"I'll scream if I get kidnapped."
Bob cracked a small smile. "That's the spirit."
As the door creaked closed behind Alex, Bob leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The fire crackled louder now in the quiet room.
Behind his eyes, Helix Point still burned.