Darius weighed his options as he scanned the scene. Across the street, a small general store sat tucked between larger, grime-covered buildings, its dim sign barely visible under layers of grime and city grit. A broken window had been haphazardly patched up with a jagged steel sheet, likely a quick fix to keep out the occasional robber or street dweller. To its left loomed a casino, its neon sign flickering unevenly, casting a sickly red glow across the sidewalk. Patrons shuffled toward the casino’s doors in a slow, lethargic line, each figure draped in worn-out jackets or frayed caps, eyes glazed over as if they were moving on autopilot. They looked like they’d given too much of themselves to the place already. Darius shivered, feeling like a stray light in a sea of shadows. This wasn’t his world.

After surveying the scene, Darius had no desire to loiter in the grimy streets surrounding the Anchor & Tide—not when the rough, low-lit atmosphere practically promised more trouble than he cared to deal with. Instead, he took a deep breath, squaring himself up to try his luck at getting inside. A bouncer had appeared at the door with a broad, surly figure who looked about ready to crush anyone who so much as sneezed out of line.

‘No time like the present,’ Darius thought, trying to muster more confidence than he felt as he approached, giving the bouncer a curt nod. He barely made it three steps towards the door before a rough hand clamped onto his chest, a low chuckle rumbling from the bouncer’s throat as he eyed Darius up and down.

“This is a bar, not a daycare,” the bouncer sneered, humor laced with an edge that told Darius he wasn’t joking. “Piss off, kid.”

Darius tried to stand his ground, forcing himself to match the bouncer’s glare. “I need to get in there. I have a meeting.”

The bouncer raised an eyebrow, amusement fading from his voice as he crossed his arms. “And I got a house on the moon. Beat it before I beat you”

Desperate, Darius softened his tone, switching tactics. “Look, I know I don’t look the part, but I swear, I’ve got a real meeting in there. It’s important. Please.”

The bouncer’s smirk vanished entirely as he leaned closer, casting Darius in his shadow even though they stood eye to eye. “I. Don’t. Care. Now scram before you end up eating through a straw.”

Darius’s mind raced; he was quickly running out of options. Taking a final chance, he lowered his voice, letting his exhaustion show. “I came a long way, and I’m out of options if I don’t make it in there. It’s about Dodge.”

The bouncer’s expression hardened instantly at the mention of Dodge, his hand falling from Darius’s chest as he scrutinized him anew. Then, with a grunt, he cracked the door open, but not before gripping Darius’s shoulder with an iron-like squeeze.

“Straight to the bartender, tell ‘em you’re here to see Blink. And kid, if you’re screwing with me, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Before Darius could respond, he found himself shoved through the doorway. His legs, weak from exhaustion, buckled, and he stumbled, landing hard on the grimy, cracked concrete floor. He tasted blood from a fresh cut on his lip and forced himself up, instantly realizing he was the center of attention. Every face in the bar was now turned to him, eyes lingering on his disheveled clothes and fresh scrape.

Around the dimly lit bar, clusters of rough-looking patrons stared with open amusement and mild curiosity. Most were clad in worn leather jackets and patched vests, adorned with badges from old, weather-beaten territories or symbols of affiliations Darius didn’t recognize. Some had tattoos crawling up their necks and hands, rough-hewn ink that looked as faded and battered as the people wearing it. Scars marked more than a few faces, and the heavy odor of smoke and stale beer thickened the air around them. One man in the corner cracked his knuckles, his bicep rippling as he watched Darius with a half-smirk. A woman with a scar across her cheek leaned back in her seat, taking a slow drag from a cigarette as her eyes narrowed in his direction. Conversation had dropped to a murmur, the background noise underscored by occasional low laughter and the clinking of glasses, but it was clear: Darius was under a microscope, and none of these patrons had the slightest reason to welcome him.

He averted his gaze, feeling heat rush to his cheeks as he made his way to the bar. “I’m… I’m here to see Blink,” he muttered to the bartender, the words catching in his throat.

The bartender raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak. Instead, he unlatched a gate at the bar with a loud, reluctant screech and nodded for Darius to follow. He moved mechanically, leading Darius to a door tucked behind the counter. With a silver key he retrieved from his breast pocket, the bartender unlocked it in a single fluid motion, opening it to reveal a steep staircase shrouded in shadows.

Darius stepped forward, feeling the door shut firmly behind him, the lock clicking into place like the closing of a trap. His breath hitched. ‘This is probably the worst mistake I’ve ever made,’ he thought, bracing himself as he began his descent.

The stairs were old enough to be from when wood wasn’t a commodity, creaking slightly under his weight, and the wood was polished with age, though surprisingly well-kept. Each step sent a dull ache up his exhausted legs, but he forced himself to keep going, the dim light growing fainter as he neared the bottom.

At the end of the staircase, he came face-to-face with a thick steel door set into a solid concrete wall, sturdy enough to withstand anything short of an assault. For a brief moment, the reality of his situation hit him hard.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

‘I am absolutely going to die here,’ he muttered, gripping the cold handle of the door, his heart pounding as he twisted it open, stepping into the unknown beyond.

As Darius stepped through the doorway, it felt as if he’d crossed into another world, one detached from the gritty streets above. The floor stretched before him in polished black marble, glistening underfoot with veins of stark white cutting through it like lightning frozen in time. The marble’s surface gleamed in the dim, warm glow cast by the recessed lights overhead, creating pools of amber reflections. Shadows gathered at the edges of the room, almost alive, giving the space a pulsing, heartbeat-like rhythm that seemed to follow his every move. The effect was mesmerizing, as though the room itself were breathing, watching, waiting.

The walls rose around him, cold concrete layered with panels of polished chrome that winked and glinted, casting fractured, eerie reflections. The chrome panels were set unevenly, as though deliberately jagged, giving the industrial room a raw, unsettling atmosphere. The occasional light reflected off the chrome at odd angles, casting distorted shapes that danced along the walls. The air felt dense and electrified, heavy with the faint hum of unseen machinery or ventilation systems. Every small sound, from the echo of his own footsteps to the murmur of low voices nearby, felt amplified in the quiet din of hushed conversations, heightening his sense of unease.

There were a handful of people scattered around, each engrossed in low, murmured conversations, and not one of them bothered to look up at Darius. He did, however, recognize one familiar face: the bouncer. The guy was already seated at a table, watching Darius with an amused smirk.

“How’d you get down here before me?” Darius blurted.

“You’re early, kid,” the bouncer replied, ignoring the question entirely. “And you blew it back there, throwing around Dodge’s name like it’s free candy. Gonna need to keep that enthusiasm in check.” He looked at Darius with a hint of mockery in his eye. “Blink’s out on some business but should be back soon. In the meantime, come over here and catch me up on why you’re even here.”

Darius’s nerves spiked, the sting of his lip a sharp reminder of how quickly this guy could deal out pain. Every instinct in him screamed to run, but with the door locked behind him, there was little chance of escape without using his ability. Might as well ride this out.

He cautiously walked over to the table and took the rag the bouncer tossed his way. “For the lip,” the man said with a grin that held zero remorse. “Didn’t think you’d crumple like a fuckin’ paper bag back there.”

Darius pressed the rag to his lip, muttering thanks under his breath, to which the bouncer responded, “For now, you can call me Wendigo.”

“Like the mythological beast that kills and eats people?” Darius asked, eyebrows raised.

“That’s the ticket.” Wendigo grinned, lifting a bottle of beer Darius hadn’t noticed him get. “So, kid, let’s hear it. What’s your power?”

“I’m a teleporter.”

Wendigo snorted. “You think so, do ya?”

“Well, considering that’s how I got here, I’d say it’s a pretty safe guess.” Darius’s tone was clipped, his irritation mounting.

Wendigo leaned back, an amused glint in his eye. “Don’t get all mouthy with me, kid. How many jumps did it take you? Last I heard, you came from Rosedale. That’s no short trip.”

“Just one,” Darius said, letting a hint of pride slip into his voice.

Wendigo let out a low whistle. “That’s a big jump. You must’ve had your power a while to pull that off. So, how’d they catch you?”

“I only got my powers when the Razorwing attacked,” Darius admitted. “But I accidentally made the jump from Wavecrest to Rosedale and didn’t exactly blend in.”

“Bad luck for you, good luck for us,” Wendigo said, adding a small, backhanded compliment. “If you can jump that far right out the gate, you might actually turn out to be useful. That’s rare for a teleporter.”

Before Darius could respond, the door banged open, and a woman in a green sweater and jeans strode in. She had an easy confidence, nodding to a few of the figures around the room as she approached.

“So, Wendi, did you tell Daryl—oh, this the kid?” she said, sizing Darius up with a quick, discerning glance. “Well, damn, you’re early. Must be real preppy” She extended a calloused hand, the grip firm and no-nonsense. “I’m Blink. Welcome to Dodge.”

“Darius… Thanks, I guess,” he replied, shaking her hand.

“So, you’re a teleporter?” Blink asked, her curiosity clear pulling her long brown hair into a loose pony as she asked this.

“Yep. Said he just got his powers yesterday but made it here in a single jump,” Wendigo interjected, looking amused as Blink’s eyebrows shot up.

“How’d you know my power?” Darius asked, taken aback.

“It’s my job to know,” Blink replied, motioning to a bartender in the corner to bring over a drink. “Can you just teleport yourself, or…?”

“I haven’t tested much yet, but I know I can teleport objects too. I’ve only done it five times on purpose,” Darius said, feeling a bit embarrassed by the admission.

Blink and Wendigo exchanged a look, mildly surprised. “When I got my power, I couldn’t stop using it—probably the best time I’d ever had,” Blink said with a grin. “Please tell me you’re not one of those brooding types who mopes about how terrible their power is.”

“No, definitely not,” Darius said quickly. “I’d use it more, but it completely drains me. I pass out if I try to do it twice in a row.”

“You’re using it wrong, then,” Blink said, giving him a pointed look. “Here, show me. Teleport yourself over there.” She nodded to the other side of the room.

Darius hesitated. “I’m telling you, I’ll pass out if I try.”

Blink’s expression hardened. “Look, if you drop, Wendigo’ll wake you up. Now, come on. Pitter patter.”

Swallowing his reluctance, Darius closed his eyes, visualizing the tunnel in his mind. He focused on linking his current position to the spot on the other side of the room and felt the strange pull as he stepped through. Reality twisted and then snapped, and he landed across the room, but the effort washed over him like a tidal wave. His legs buckled as the room spun, and just before everything went black, he heard Wendigo’s voice, half-laughing, half-amused.

“Well, I’ve never seen anyone do it like that before.”