The night was heavy with tension as six Honor Guard soldiers crept through the narrow alley behind an abandoned warehouse. The crumbling walls loomed over them, casting jagged shadows in the dim light of a crescent moon. The sergeant, a grizzled man with a scar running down his cheek, raised his fist, signaling the others to stop. They pressed their backs against the cold, damp bricks, their breath visible in the chilly air.

“Intel says there’s at least five of them holed up in there,” the sergeant whispered, his voice barely audible. “One’s a flyer, and the rest can manipulate metal.”

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances. They had faced phenoms before, but this was different. They were outnumbered, and the abilities they were up against made direct combat risky. The sergeant signaled again, motioning for the two men at the rear to move around to the other entrance and flank the targets.

“Go in quiet,” the sergeant muttered, his eyes fixed on the steel door in front of them. “We’ll flush them out.”

The two soldiers nodded and slipped into the shadows, their footsteps silent. The remaining four stacked up against the door. The sergeant reached for the handle, giving a nod to his team, but before he could open it, a loud crash echoed from inside the warehouse.

“They’ve spotted us!” one of the soldiers hissed, raising his weapon.

The door burst open with a deafening clang, and metal shards, sharp as razors, came flying out. The soldiers dove for cover as the projectiles embedded themselves in the brick walls, missing them by inches.

“Shit!” the sergeant cursed, rolling behind a nearby dumpster. He grabbed his radio and barked orders. “They’re armed. Flyer’s on the move. Get ready!”

From above, the flap of wings cut through the air like the sound of leather snapping. One of the soldiers looked up just in time to see a shadow dart overhead—a woman with massive wings, dark as night, swooped down, grabbing one of the soldiers, Murphy, by the collar. She lifted him effortlessly into the air, his scream echoing as he was yanked off the ground.

“Murphy!” the sergeant shouted, but it was too late. The flyer rose higher, her wings cutting through the air as she disappeared into the warehouse’s upper rafters, Murphy dangling helplessly in her grasp.

“We can’t get a clear shot!” another soldier called out, ducking behind cover as more metal shards whistled through the air, embedding themselves into the concrete with violent precision.

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Inside the warehouse, the remaining phenom appeared—a man in his early twenties, his hands outstretched, manipulating the metal shards with a flick of his wrist. His eyes glinted with cold determination as he stepped forward, sending a wave of jagged steel toward the soldiers.

“Suppressive fire!” the sergeant ordered, his voice tense.

The soldiers opened fire, their bullets ricocheting off the metal shards the phenom summoned as a makeshift shield. Sparks flew, and the warehouse echoed with the deafening sounds of gunfire and clashing steel.

“We need backup!” one of the soldiers shouted over the chaos, his voice nearly drowned out by the gunfire.

The sergeant was about to call for reinforcements when a calm, commanding voice cut through the noise. “That won’t be necessary.”

The soldiers turned to see the captain, his tall, imposing figure stepping out from the shadows. His expression was unreadable, his eyes cold and calculating as he surveyed the scene. Without waiting for an invitation, he walked past the cover where the sergeant crouched, stepping into the line of fire.

“Sir, we—” the sergeant began, but the captain raised a hand, silencing him.

The phenom, seeing the captain approach, narrowed his eyes and sent a wave of metal spikes hurtling toward him. But the captain didn’t flinch. With a flick of his wrist, the shards stopped mid-flight, hovering in the air for a brief second before falling harmlessly to the ground with a metallic clatter.

The phenom’s eyes widened in disbelief. He thrust his hand out again, trying to summon more shards, but nothing happened. His power was gone.

“What...what did you do?” the phenom stammered, his voice trembling.

The captain’s lips curled into a cold, humorless smile. “Your abilities are nothing here. Without them, you are nothing.”

Above, the flyer faltered, her wings stuttering mid-beat. With a gasp, she plummeted from the rafters, releasing Murphy as she fell. Both hit the ground hard, their bodies lying motionless on the concrete floor.

The phenom, seeing his partner fall, let out a roar of frustration. He charged at the captain, his fists clenched, but the captain moved with deadly precision. Sidestepping the attack, he drew his baton and struck the phenom across the back with brutal force. The man crumpled to the ground, gasping in pain.

The captain knelt beside him, wrenching his arms behind his back and snapping a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. The phenom struggled, but it was useless.

“You freaks always react the same,” the captain murmured, his voice laced with disdain. “The moment I take your powers away, you fall apart. Pathetic.”

As the captain stood, the four remaining soldiers rushed into the warehouse, their boots pounding on the concrete floor. One grabbed the handcuffed phenom and dragged him away, while two others hauled the unconscious bodies of the flyer and Murphy out of the room.

The sergeant, pale-faced and shaken, started to follow his men, but the captain’s voice stopped him cold.

“Sergeant,” the captain called, his tone casual but deadly. “Report to the bio lab first thing in the morning. You and your team have just volunteered as test subjects.”

The sergeant’s blood ran cold. He turned slowly, his voice barely a whisper. “Yes, sir.”

The captain didn’t bother to look at him as he walked away, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous warehouse.