Alex's heart was pounding.
He'd never used that much power before. Not like that. Not with intention.
Reality twisted around him, colors bled, matter warped. The air shimmered and cracked like glass as he hurled everything he had at Lucien.
Lucien didn't flinch.
The bastard stood in Hope's armor like he owned it, light bending around his shoulders, his every movement confident and surgical. He was smiling the whole time. That smile that made Alex's skin crawl.
"You're still raw," Lucien had said, stepping out of a crater Alex made. "Still afraid of what you could do. Just like your father."
That was when Alex lost it.
A column of distorted space exploded from his palm, ripping through the trees, the ground, the sky. He didn't care what broke. He just wanted Lucien to hurt.
But Lucien didn't hurt. He absorbed.
The armor glowed with blinding intensity, its veins of light pulsing hungrily as it devoured Alex's chaos like it was nothing.
Then the counterattack came.
Light.
Pure, searing, controlled.
It struck Alex in the chest, and suddenly—
darkness.
….
He woke up choking.
Everything hurt. His bones felt like gravel. His mind, dull and muted, like it had been muffled by cotton.
He tried to reach outward, to bend the space, feel the ripple of possibility.
Nothing.
He opened his eyes.
He was inside a laser cage, hexagonal bars of flickering red light surrounding him like the inside of a prism. Every time he moved, the light hummed, adjusting, calculating. It wasn't just keeping him in. It was suppressing him.
A nullifier. But not like the Bureau's. This was advanced, aggressive. Made for something like him.
Outside the cage, the room was dim. Cold stone floors, low-tech industrial architecture. Cameras in every corner. A single monitor glowed faintly on the far wall, like an ever-watching eye.
Then the pain started.
Not physical.
Mental.
Like a pressure building in his head, his reality-sense trying to expand, trying to function, and slamming again and again into an invisible wall. He winced and clutched his temples, panting.
"You're awake," came a voice from a nearby speaker.
Lucien.
Of course.
"You fought well, Alex. You've inherited more than just your father's powers. You inherited his temper. But unlike him, you're afraid to kill."
Alex gritted his teeth. "Where's Bob?"
A pause.
"Somewhere angry," Lucien said. "Probably."
Alex's fingers curled into fists. He hated how helpless he felt. How small.
But he didn't give Lucien the satisfaction of more questions.
"You're not a prisoner," Lucien said after a moment. "You're a transition."
The lights in the cage pulsed once. Then dimmed.
Alex stared forward, his voice cold.
"He's coming for me."
Lucien chuckled through the speaker. "I'm counting on it."
Then the light in the monitor flickered—
And Lucien was gone.
….
Day six.
At least, he thought it was. Time didn't exactly pass the same way when you were caged in red light with no sun, no clock, and no one to talk to except yourself.
Alex sat cross-legged on the cold metal floor of the laser cage, back slumped against one of the glowing bars. His hair was a mess, his clothes rumpled, and his eyes bloodshot.
"Day six of being completely and utterly abandoned," he muttered to himself, voice thick with sarcasm. "Still no snacks. Still no visitors. Still no Netflix."
He let his head fall back against the humming wall behind him, the vibration sending a mild static buzz into his skull. He didn't even flinch anymore.
"Maybe this is my villain origin story," he mumbled. "Maybe this is how I become evil. I rot in a red laser cage, go insane, and start monologuing to rats. Except, oh wait, no rats either. Just me. And my thoughts. And the gentle hum of psychological decay."
He huffed a dry laugh. Then sighed again. Harder.
"You'd think with all the psychotic resources the Order has, they could at least leave a puzzle book. Or a Rubik's cube. Hell, I'd kill for a deck of cards."
He threw a pebble, where did it come from? Who knew, across the floor, and it clinked off the opposite side of the cage.
"Bob, if you're out there… I swear, when you get here, I'm gonna punch you for being late. Then probably cry and hug you. In that order."
He stretched out across the floor, letting his arm dangle off the edge. His body ached. Not just from the hard surface or the days of suppressed powers, but from the waiting. The not knowing. The silence.
"Hope better be proud. His son's gonna die of boredom."
The lights of the cage shifted slightly in brightness, probably just routine calibration, but Alex sat up quickly, eyes wide, like a starving man catching a scent.
"…Wait. Was that something?"
Silence.
"Nope. Just me. Talking to myself again."
He lay back down, covering his face with both hands. Then, muttered under his breath with grim humor:
"This is fine. This is definitely fine."
But deep down, beneath the jokes, beneath the sarcasm, he was afraid.
And somewhere in that room, unseen in the darkness, a camera's red light blinked… watching.
…
The door to the cell hissed open with a mechanical groan, red light spilling into the room like blood.
Alex squinted up, expecting another round of nothing. Instead, he saw movement, figures entering.
Lucien stepped forward, cloaked in shadows and arrogance. Behind him were two guards in sleek black armor, weapons in hand. But it was Lucien who carried the real threat: a pair of matte-black handcuffs, etched with dull silver lines, nullifiers.
"Up," Lucien said, voice smooth and casual, like he was asking Alex to lunch.
Alex didn't move. "Why now?"
Lucien said nothing as the guards yanked Alex to his feet. He didn't resist. The cuffs were slapped on with a sharp click, and Alex felt the air shift around him, his power, his very sense of self, dulled instantly.
Lucien leaned in, eyes glinting with something unsettling.
"You're probably wondering why I finally dragged you out of your little playpen."
Alex glared at him. "No, I figured it was 'take your prisoner to work' day."
Lucien smirked. "You've got your father's mouth."
That made Alex pause.
Lucien continued. "But you're wrong. I didn't bring you out because I need you. I brought you out because I wanted you to know."
He turned, motioning the guards to follow. They shoved Alex forward, marching him down the corridor.
"Know what?" Alex muttered, jaw tight.
Lucien didn't look back. His voice echoed down the hallway.
"Rafael is back."
Alex froze. But the guards didn't stop shoving him forward.
"You're lying."
"Am I?" Lucien chuckled, cruel and calm. "Two hundred fifty-six confirmed kills in six days. Bars, hideouts, hidden sanctuaries. Cleansed in blood and fear."
He turned slightly, just enough for Alex to see the grin spreading across his face.
"My work... finally, He's back. He's not hiding anymore. He's hunting. And he's coming for you."
They stopped in front of an elevator. The doors hissed open, revealing nothing but sterile silence inside.
"So get ready," Lucien said as the doors closed on them. "The endgame is happening. And you're the prize."
Alex didn't speak.
But deep inside, he clenched his fists, the cuffs biting into his wrists.
He's coming.
And for the first time in six days, Alex smiled.