The plane's wheels screeched against the tarmac as it touched down in Toronto. Frank's stomach lurched, not from the landing, but from the gnawing anxiety that had plagued him throughout the flight. He glanced at Alan, who gripped the armrests, his knuckles white.
"We made it," Frank muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Ollie, sitting across the aisle with Mai, nodded grimly. The girl had fallen asleep, her head resting on Ollie's shoulder. For a moment, Frank marveled at how peaceful she looked, oblivious to the storm they were racing towards.
As soon as the seatbelt sign blinked off, Frank was on his feet. "Let's move," he said, his voice tight with urgency, "Everyone get out of the way, police business, let us out first"
They rushed through customs, Frank flashing his badge to expedite the process. The familiar corridors of Pearson International blurred as they sprinted towards the exit.
Outside, the chilly Toronto air hit Frank's face like a slap. He scanned the parking lot, spotting their police cruiser where he'd left it days ago. It felt like a lifetime had passed since then.
"Alan, drive," Frank ordered, tossing him the keys. "Ollie, keep Mai safe in the back."
They piled into the car, Alan gunning the engine before the doors had fully closed. The tires squealed as they peeled out of the parking lot.
"Captain's gonna have our asses for this," Alan muttered, flicking on the sirens.
The radio crackled to life. "Unit 47, what's your status? You're not scheduled for—"
"Tell the captain to shut up," Frank growled, silencing the radio with a sharp jab.
Alan weaved through traffic with uncanny precision, his eyes unfocused as if seeing beyond the road. Frank recognized that look—Alan was using his hunch or clairvoyance, that inexplicable sixth sense that had saved their lives more times than he could count.
In the backseat, Ollie cradled Mai, his eyes darting from window to window. The girl stirred, blinking sleepily as if not disturbed by the rocking car.
"Where are we?" she mumbled.
"Somewhere safe," Ollie assured her, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Just stay close to me, okay?"
Frank's heart clenched. He'd dragged this child into a dangerous situation, and now... He shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.
The warehouse loomed ahead, a hulking silhouette against the darkening sky. As they approached, Frank's blood ran cold. The main gate hung open, twisted off its hinges.
"Something's wrong," he breathed.
Alan didn't need to be told twice. He slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt just outside the gate.
Frank was out of the car before it had fully stopped, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun. The eerie silence that enveloped the warehouse sent chills down his spine.
"Alan, stay with Mai," he ordered. "Ollie, with me."
They crept towards the entrance, every sense on high alert. The massive doors were ajar, a sliver of darkness visible beyond.
Frank's heart pounded in his ears as he pushed the door open wider. The interior was pitch black, the familiar hum of the AC units conspicuously absent.
"Something's not right, stay behind me," Ollie whispered, his voice barely audible.
As if on cue, a piercing shriek shattered the silence. Frank's blood turned to ice as he recognized the sound – the same unearthly wail he'd heard in his nightmares.
"Get down!" he yelled, tackling Alan to the ground as something whizzed over their heads.
A figure materialized in the doorway, silhouetted against the fading daylight. Frank's eyes widened as he took in the grotesque form—a twisted amalgamation of human and... something else.
"What the hell is that?" Alan gasped.
Before Frank could respond, the creature lunged at them with inhuman speed. He rolled to the side, feeling the rush of air as claws slashed where his head had been moments before.
A shotgun immediately materialized on Ollie's arms then a loud shockwave scattered across the sky. The monster took a direct hit. It ran away in response back into the warehouse.
Frank's heart hammered against his ribs as he crept through the warehouse, his gun trained ahead. Ollie flanked him, shotgun at the ready. The stench of death and decay assaulted Frank's nostrils, making him gag.
"Jesus," he muttered, stepping over a twisted corpse.
The warehouse was a scene of carnage. Boxes lay scattered, their contents spilled across the floor. Bodies—both human and Jiangshi—littered the floor like discarded toys. Frank's trained eye took in the gruesome details: limbs torn from torsos, entrails spilled, faces frozen in terror.
"Looks like they put up a fight," Ollie whispered, nudging a fallen jiangshi with his boot.
Frank nodded grimly. The dead men had clearly battled against the Jiangshi. He pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand.
They moved deeper into the warehouse, stepping carefully over debris and body parts. The silence pressed in on them, broken only by their careful footsteps and ragged breathing.
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As they rounded a corner, Frank's breath caught in his throat. In a cleared area ahead lay two bodies, motionless in a pool of blood. He recognized them instantly: Ryan Huang.
"Oh, shit," Ollie breathed.
Frank approached cautiously, his mind racing. Ryan lay sprawled on his back, eyes wide and unseeing.
Frank's fingers brushed Ryan's cold skin, his mind struggling to process the scene before him. A flicker of movement caught his eye—
"Move!" Ollie roared, slamming into Frank's side.
The detective hit the ground hard, air rushing from his lungs. A metallic clang filled the air as dozens of knives embedded themselves in the concrete where he'd stood moments before.
Frank rolled onto his back, gasping. His eyes widened as a figure materialized out of thin air, seeming to step from the very shadows themselves.
Ian Huang.
The man's face was a mask of cold fury, his eyes burning with an otherworldly light. Frank scrambled backward, fumbling for his gun.
Ollie was faster. The young Path agent lunged at Ian, his shotgun already ready to aim, and a shockwave burst forth.
Ian moved with impossible speed, dodging Ollie's shot and countering with a vicious backhand. The blow sent Ollie flying, his body crashing into a stack of crates. Immediately, hundreds of knives were sent flying to the crates Ollie fell into, but the youth was already in the air aiming his two Bizon SMGs at Ian.
Frank's heart hammered in his chest as he watched the fight unfold. Ollie was good—damn good—but Ian was on another level entirely. The Jiuling member seemed to dance between Ollie's shots, always a step ahead, always just out of reach.
A sickening crunch echoed through the warehouse as Ian's fist connected with Ollie's jaw. The young agent stumbled, blood spraying from his mouth.
Ian grabbed Ollie by the throat, lifting him off his feet with inhuman strength. Ollie clawed at the hand crushing his windpipe, his face turning an alarming shade of purple.
Frank's mind raced, desperately searching for a way to help. He took a step forward—
The ceiling exploded.
Shards of metal and concrete rained down as figures in sleek, high-tech armor dropped into the warehouse. Frank's eyes widened as he recognized the lead figure.
It was Cromwell.
The Dragoon leader hit the ground in a crouch, his armor humming with barely contained energy. In an instant, he assessed the situation and barked an order to his team.
"Neutralize the target! Non-lethal takedown!"
Ian's head snapped towards the new threat. With a snarl, he hurled Ollie's limp body at the Dragoons. Two of them caught the unconscious agent, while the others spread out, surrounding Ian.
Frank scrambled to his feet, his gun trained on Ian, and shot at Ian. Bullets homed in on Ian, but were immediately blocked by numerous knives.
The Dragoon leader's helmet retracted, revealing his grim expression. "Commence operation monster subjugation."
Ian's laughter cut through the tension, a chilling sound that sent shivers down Frank's spine. "Monster?" he sneered. "You have no idea what true monsters are."
With blinding speed, Ian charged at the nearest Dragoon. The armored soldier fired a barrage of energy bolts, but Ian weaved between them as if they were moving in slow motion.
Frank watched in horror as Ian's hand plunged into the Dragoon's chest, somehow phasing through the advanced armor. The soldier's scream was cut short as Ian ripped something glowing from his body.
Cromwell gasped, "He's stealing their ether."
The remaining Dragoons opened fire, filling the air with a storm of energy bolts. Ian danced between them, his movements fluid and unnatural. With each Dragoon he touched, his body seemed to pulse with an eerie light.
Frank's mind reeled. This was beyond anything he'd encountered before. He'd seen Jiangshi, fought creatures from other dimensions, but this... this was something else entirely.
"We need to contain him!" Cromwell's gun reconfigured to a sword and a shield.
Cromwell's sword sliced through the air, a trail of blue energy crackling in its wake. Ian dodged with inhuman speed, his form blurring as he weaved between the Dragoon leader's strikes.
Frank watched, his heart pounding, as the two combatants danced a deadly waltz. Cromwell's armor hummed with power, each movement precise and calculated. But Ian... Ian moved like water, fluid and unpredictable.
A Dragoon soldier flanked Ian, energy rifle raised. The air crackled as he unleashed a barrage of shots. Ian's hand shot out, impossibly fast. Knives materialized from thin air, intercepting each bolt mid-flight.
Frank's mind reeled. Ian was the strongest person he's ever seen, possibly stronger than Yu Mo.
Cromwell pressed his advantage, his sword a blur of motion. For a moment, it seemed he might gain the upper hand. Then Ian's eyes flashed with an otherworldly light.
The Jiuling member's hand shot out, phasing through Cromwell's armor as if it were mist. The Dragoon leader's scream of agony cut off abruptly as Ian ripped something glowing from his chest.
Cromwell collapsed, his armor suddenly lifeless. Ian stood over him, the stolen ether pulsing in his palm like a miniature sun.
"No!" Frank shouted, raising his gun. But he shots again all deflected.
The remaining Dragoons unleashed hell. Energy bolts filled the air, turning night to day. Ian moved through the barrage like a ghost, untouchable, unstoppable.
One by one, the Dragoons fell. Each time Ian's hand phased through their armor, another life was snuffed out. Another glowing orb of ether joined the constellation orbiting Ian's form.
Frank's breath came in ragged gasps. He was watching a nightmare as each one fell by Ian's literal hands.
The last Dragoon's scream echoed through the warehouse, then silence fell. Ian stood alone amidst the carnage, his body pulsing with stolen power.
Slowly, almost lazily, Ian turned to face Frank. His eyes burned with an inner fire, and when he smiled, Frank felt his blood run cold.
"Detective," Ian's voice was soft, almost gentle. "You shouldn't have meddled in things that you weren't supposed to."
Frank's grip tightened on his gun, though he knew it was useless. "What are you?"
Ian chuckled, the sound devoid of warmth. "I am the future, Frank. The next step in human evolution."
He took a step forward, and Frank instinctively backed away. "You've seen what the dust can do, haven't you? The power it grants?" Ian's eyes gleamed. "But that's nothing compared to what I've discovered. The ones from the rift, they let me taste their power. With that power, I could have her back."
Frank's mind raced, searching for a way out, a way to stop this monster. But Ian was between him and the exit, and Ollie was still unconscious, buried under a pile of crates.
"You could have lived in blissful ignorance, Frank," Ian continued, his voice almost sad. "I would have taken things slow, and destroyed this whole damn thing little by little."
Frank's back hit a wall. He was cornered, trapped like a rat. "What are you planning, Ian?"
The Jiuling member's smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed just a little too sharp. "Oh, Frank. I just wanted to save the world, but it needs to be with her. So why is she gone?"
With a gesture, Ian summoned a swirling vortex of knives. They hovered in the air, their edges gleaming in the dim light. "But first, I'm afraid I'll have to tie up some loose ends."
Frank's heart hammered against his ribs. This was it. He was going to die here, in this godforsaken warehouse, at the hands of a madman with godlike powers.
"Ian." A cold monotone voice of a little girl echoed through the chamber of the warehouse.