Hamza stood frozen, his eyes locked on the gruesome sight before him. One body lay headless, a pool of blood spreading beneath it, while another was slumped nearby, riddled with bullet holes. The air was thick with the stench of death. Ali stumbled back, covering his mouth with his hand, trying not to throw up. His eyes were wide, filled with horror. Hamza took a shaky step forward, then stopped, bile rising in his throat."Oh God…" he whispered, voice low and trembling.
Disgust twisted Hamza's face as the gruesome reality sank into him like ice piercing his chest. He turned away from the bodies and stepped toward Ali, who was hunched over, still fighting back the urge to vomit.
"Yo, bro… you okay?" Hamza asked gently, placing a steadying hand on Ali's back and giving it a couple of supportive pats.
Ali didn't answer at first. He mumbled through clenched teeth, voice strained, "T-Toes id looq liqe I an…"
Hamza blinked, raising an eyebrow. "What?"
Ali swallowed hard, barely keeping it down. "Does it look like I am?" he snapped, then immediately regretted it. His body was shaking. His hands were cold. Panic and nausea were battling for control.
Hamza didn't take it personally. He stepped closer, patting Ali's back again. "Uhh… sorry. You can fly, right?"
Ali nodded slowly, still pale. "Y-Yeah… I… I can."
"Good." Hamza placed two fingers on Ali's shoulder, sharing his power. His own knees buckled slightly from the drain, but he steadied himself—it always passed quickly.
Ali gasped as the energy surged through him, but before he could even speak, his stomach twisted violently. He turned and puked again—this time with so much force, it launched him backward straight through the wall, leaving a cracked, man-sized hole.
"Oof—" Hamza winced. "You okay, buddy?"
Ali groaned from the other side of the wall, then stumbled back into view, somehow spotless. "Yeah… I'm fine. Kinda. Actually felt better once I let it out."
Hamza raised an eyebrow. "Right…"
Ali cracked his neck, shook off the dizziness, then took a deep breath—and shot into the sky.
hamza fly's with him
Hamza shot a glance at Ali. "You sure you're good to keep flying?"
Ali nodded, still catching his breath. "Yeah. Let's get out of here."
Without another word, Ali surged upward, cutting through the fading light like a streak of silver. Hamza followed closely, matching his pace.
The city blurred beneath them as they flew toward the familiar skyline of their neighborhood. The quiet streets and dim porch lights of their block came into view, a sharp contrast to the horror they'd just left behind.
Finally, they touched down on the roof of their building. Hamza glanced around no sign of anyone following.
"Home sweet home," he muttered, leading the way inside.
Ali lagged just a step behind, still pale but steady.
Once inside, Hamza closed the door quietly, locked it, and leaned against it with a long sigh.
"We made it," he said, voice low.
Ali slumped onto the couch, finally allowing himself to relax.
His eyes caught a notification blinking on his phone.
Curious, Ali picked up his phone and unlocked the screen.
A message from Mr. X appeared " Congrats! You've been randomly selected from my 10 million subscribers since I started this channel to compete in my tournament! I'll be streaming it live. Here's the location of the checkpoint — you need to be there by 7 AM, because the ride to the tournament site will take a while. The event starts on May 25th. The winner takes home a prize beyond your wildest dreams — enough to change your life forever."
Ali stared at the screen, puzzled. "Why me?" he muttered to himself, then shouted, "HAMZA!"
"YES?" Hamza called back from another room.
"GET OVER HERE!"
Hamza sighed and walked into Ali's room. "Do you need something?" he asked.
"It's Mr. X," Ali said, holding up the phone with a serious expression.
"What? Did he find out we saw everything that happened?" Hamza asked, suddenly tense.
Ali started to respond, "N—"
DING DONG.
"H-HE'S HERE?!" Hamza yelped, bolting to the door in a blur of speed. He skidded to a stop and cautiously peeked through the porthole window, his heart pounding.
He froze.
"D-Dad?" he whispered.
Without hesitation, Hamza flung the door open and threw his arms around the man.
"Salamu alaykum," his father greeted warmly.
"Wa alaykum salam," Hamza replied, his voice slightly trembling.
Hamza kissed his father's forehead gently.
He pulled back, eyes wide with disbelief."Dad… why are you in America? I thought you were still in the UAE?"
His father smiled gently."Just a business trip. I figured, why not take the chance to visit you while I'm here?"
Hamza stepped aside, opening the door wider with a grin."Then come in, Dad."
His father stepped inside, looking around the apartment as he made his way to the living room. He settled onto the couch with a tired sigh, then turned to Hamza with a curious smile.
"So… how's the superhero stuff going?" he asked casually.
Hamza flopped down onto the armrest, arms crossed."It's fine. I somehow survived a bomb that could've wiped out a whole city. Kinda like a nuke—but not."
His dad blinked, clearly trying to process that."Yahhh, I remember that. Ali told me and your mother you were dead after the explosion and all that crazy stuff."
Hamza chuckled dryly."Yeah, well… turns out I'm hard to kill."
His dad laughed, shaking his head."Now that's how I know you're my son."
Just then, Ali burst into the room."UNCLE!" he shouted, sprinting over to hug and kiss his uncle's forehead.
"Ahhh, Ali! How are you?" his uncle asked warmly.
"Fine! And what about you, Uncle?" Ali said, sitting down beside him.
"Alhamdulillah. How's school going?" his uncle asked.
"Uncle, clearly you know the answer," Ali replied with a grin. "By the way, I have a question for you."
"Yeah? What is it?" his uncle asked, leaning forward with interest.
"Where's my father? He usually comes with you," Ali asked, eyes curious.
"He was late for his flight, that's all," the uncle replied smoothly.
"Oh, I see. I've got another question," Ali said, eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Give me questions, not just one," his uncle challenged with a smile.
"How does the earpiece resist the speed of sound?" Ali asked. "One time, Hamza was flying in his superhero suit at the speed of sound, and when I tried to talk to him through the earpiece, it didn't even break."
His uncle chuckled softly, impressed. "Ah, that's some clever tech right there one of my workers created this earpiece in my company. It's specially designed to handle extreme conditions vibrations, pressure changes, even the shockwaves from breaking the sound barrier. It uses adaptive noise-canceling and reinforced circuits to keep the signal clear no matter how fast he's moving."
Ali nodded, fascinated. "That's pretty cool. Can I get one like that??"
"gonna deliver it tomorrow before you go to school thats a promise," his uncle smiled, ruffling Ali's hair.
"What about you, son?" his father asked, turning to Hamza.
Hamza rubbed his chin, thinking aloud. "Hmmmmm…"
Then his expression sharpened with curiosity. "Dad… do you have something like a disguise suit?"
His father raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"Well… there's this villain," Hamza began, glancing at Ali. "He wants Ali to be in his twisted event. I'm planning to disguise myself as him and take his place."
His father's face grew serious. He leaned back slightly. "I see… That's risky."
Hamza nodded. "I know. That's why I'm asking. I need something that'll fool cameras, sensors—everything."
His father paused, then said slowly, "From what I remember… one of my old employees once built a suit that could do just that. It could mimic voices, body shapes, even thermal signatures. A real piece of genius tech."
Hamza's eyes lit up. "Really? Where is it?"
"I had to fire him, about six years ago" his father said with a sigh. "He started becoming something he shouldn't have become."
Hamza leaned forward, hope growing in his chest. "But the suit—do you still have it?"
His father shook his head. "No, but… he left behind the blueprints. I can rebuild it. Shouldn't take long."
"Seriously?" Hamza asked, eyes wide. "How fast?"
"If my workers start tonight," his father said, already mentally piecing it together, "they could have it ready before the event."