The night hung over the city like a heavy curtain, its dim lights flickering through the misty streets. De walked silently, his steps muffled by the wet pavement. The stolen prototype rested securely in his satchel, its soft hum blending with the distant sounds of the city. He’d already activated it—the melody played faintly, intertwining with the cold wind. Each step took him deeper into the outskirts, where the shadows grew longer and hope was a rare commodity.
His eyes flicked to the console in his hand. Blips appeared sporadically, marking those whose internal turmoil manifested on the surface—agitated heart rates, erratic breathing, trembling hands. These were the signs the device was attuned to, the cracks of suffering visible to the naked eye or detectable through a glance at their body’s betrayal. But De wasn’t interested in just anyone. He had a specific type in mind.
Then, on the edge of the device’s range, a new signal appeared. It was weak but steady, like a flicker of dying life. A man, sitting alone against the crumbling wall of an alleyway, his head hanging low, his body motionless. The scan revealed no significant injuries, no physical cause for his despair. De approached, the melodic hum of the device weaving through the air.
The man didn’t react as De stood over him. His breath was shallow but steady, no outward sign of distress—yet the prototype had picked up something, a subtle disturbance in the rhythm of his pulse, a tremor in his hand. It was enough.
“You look tired,” De said, his voice low but carrying a note of curiosity. “Is this how you want it to end?”
The man’s hollow eyes lifted, meeting De’s gaze with a dull emptiness. “There’s nothing left,” he whispered, his voice strained. “No reason to keep going.”
De crouched down, the device in his hand subtly shifting as he pressed a button. The melody played louder, its haunting notes filling the narrow alley. “Is that really true? No reason at all?” De’s tone was gentle, almost understanding, as if offering comfort.
The man’s eyes flinched slightly at the sound, though he didn’t move. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “I’ve been fighting for so long. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
De nodded slowly, watching the man’s face. “I can offer you peace,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of finality. “No more struggle. No more pain.”
The man’s breath hitched slightly, as if the idea of release had triggered something deep within him. But he didn’t answer, instead returning to his silent vigil. De studied him for a moment longer before standing up.
“Think about it,” De said quietly. “I’ll be back.”
De walked away, the soft hum of the device still faintly audible, carrying a strange sense of calm with it. For the first time in a long while, something had settled in his mind—clarity. He was offering a way out, an end to suffering, and it felt right. The man needed time, but De could sense it: the man would come around.
As he moved farther from the alley, his thoughts continued to circle back to the idea of saving. It made sense. He was doing what needed to be done.
But then, he saw her.
The dim glow from a clinic window illuminated an old woman, her body all but swallowed by a tangle of wires and machines. Each shallow rise and fall of her chest were dictated by the apparatus surrounding her, the quiet symphony of artificial life support systems. Her eyes, half-lidded and vacant, stared at nothing.
De’s pace slowed, something tightening in his chest. This was different. He watched, unsure for a moment, as if the scene in front of him made the notion of saving seem… incomplete. The machines continued their unrelenting hum, keeping her tied to life, even when her body had all but given up.
He took a step closer, his breath catching in his throat. The question of choice now seemed meaningless in the face of this. Here was someone who couldn’t even choose, couldn’t reach out for the escape De thought he was offering to those in need.
He knelt by the window, the dull light casting shadows across his face as he spoke softly to her. “You shouldn’t have to live like this.”
There was no response. There couldn’t be. But something inside De cracked, a realization sinking deeper than the cold air biting at his skin. She wasn’t like the man in the alley. She couldn’t ask for help. And that’s why she needed saving more than anyone else.
“I can free you from this,” he whispered, his voice wavering, heavy with an emotion that surprised him. He wasn’t sure if it was anger or sorrow. Maybe both. He looked at her face, searching for some sign of agreement, or at least understanding, but the machines continued their steady rhythm, indifferent.
The weight of it all pressed down on him—the limits of his power, the inadequacy of his tools. He had promised to end suffering, but this… this was different. The prototype couldn’t even register her. No internal turmoil left to show, only the quiet betrayal of her body being kept alive.
De stood, his hands trembling. This wasn’t the salvation he thought he could offer. The device had failed her, but she had shown him the truth: there were those out there suffering in ways he wasn’t equipped to understand yet. His solution wasn’t enough. Not for her. Not for others like her.
With a quiet apology lingering in the air, De turned and left the clinic behind, the cold biting harder as he walked.
When he returned to the alley, the man was still there, bathed in the pale glow of the streetlights. De’s footsteps echoed softly, his mind clearer now, sharper. The man looked up, confused by his reappearance.
De stared at him for a moment, the weight of his next words heavy on his chest. “I won’t save you,” he said quietly, the coldness in his voice masking the internal storm. “But you can help me save others.”
On the other side of the city, Cav stood in the park, watching the fading light as the sun set behind the distant buildings. His thoughts were far from the peace of the evening. De’s words still echoed in his mind, the sharp clash of their last encounter stirring something unsettled within him.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against a tree. The world felt heavy these days. He didn’t know where he fit anymore, not after his confrontation with De. It had left him questioning things he thought he’d understood, but not enough to embrace De’s philosophy.
A faint sound drew his attention—a quiet sob coming from a nearby bench. Cav’s eyes narrowed as he spotted a woman sitting there, her face buried in her hands. His heart sank.
Cav hesitated for a moment, unsure whether he should intervene. After all, what could he say? He didn’t have the answers. But something pushed him forward, a stubborn refusal to let despair win.
He walked over slowly, his presence calm but deliberate.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Are you alright?” Cav asked gently, standing just a few feet away.
The woman looked up, her eyes red and swollen from tears. “No,” she said, her voice trembling. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”
Cav nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the bench, giving her space. “I get it,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “It feels like the whole world’s against you sometimes, doesn’t it?”
She sniffed, nodding silently, her gaze distant.
“I don’t have any magical words that’ll fix things,” Cav continued, his tone quiet but unwavering. “But I can tell you this—sometimes, just surviving is enough. Sometimes that’s the only victory you need.”
The woman stayed silent for a while before looking at him again, her expression shifting. “I don’t know if I can.”
Cav gave a small, understanding smile. “I don’t know if I can either,” he admitted. “But that’s okay. We don’t have to figure it out all at once. Just take it one day at a time.”
A quiet moment passed between them, and Cav stood, giving her a small nod before walking away. The night air was thick with silence, each of his steps falling heavier than the last. He couldn’t shake the hollow feeling settling in his chest, a gnawing sense of helplessness creeping in. He had tried to help, but the weight of her despair lingered like an invisible shadow.
As he walked, the distant hum of the city faded, and the only sound that accompanied him was the quiet rhythm of his breath. Something tugged at him, though—a strange unease. His feet slowed, almost against his will. He glanced back, the woman still seated on the bench, a statue of sorrow, her face buried in her hands once more.
Cav stopped. His instincts screamed that something was wrong, but he didn’t want to turn around. He had done what he could, hadn’t he? Yet, the weight of her silence dragged on his thoughts like an anchor. He took one more step, then froze.
A sharp crack echoed through the night.
The sound pierced the stillness, sending a jolt of dread through his spine. He spun around, heart hammering in his chest. The woman on the bench slumped forward, her body limp, unmoving. Blood trickled down from her temple, staining the cold metal of the bench beneath her.
“No,” Cav muttered, his breath catching in his throat. “No…”
Before he could rush toward her, the distant rumble of tires broke through the oppressive quiet. Headlights sliced through the fog, illuminating the desolate park. A van screeched to a halt near the far entrance, its side door sliding open with precision.
Cav took a step back, confusion and fear colliding in his mind. From the van, a figure emerged, dressed in dark, tactical gear, their movements deliberate and calculated. They weren’t police—this was something else. The figure moved swiftly toward the woman, bending down to inspect her lifeless body.
“What the hell…” Cav whispered, his hand instinctively reaching for the knife he kept tucked at his side.
Before Cav could act, the figure hoisted the woman’s body into their arms, with a cold efficiency that made Cav’s blood run cold. This wasn’t an act of compassion—it was something sinister. The van’s engine roared to life again, but just as the figure turned to retreat, another sound cut through the night.
Sirens.
From the opposite side of the park, a squad of police vehicles sped toward them, their lights flashing ominously in the mist. Cav’s heart pounded in his ears as the situation spiraled into chaos.
The van’s driver revved the engine, preparing to flee, but before they could, another car skidded to a halt in front of them. The door opened, and out stepped a man in a sleek, tailored suit, his sharp gaze cutting through the confusion with a calculated calm.
Hart.
Flanked by a small team of officers, Hart walked toward the scene as though he were already in control. His eyes flicked toward the tactical figure near the van, taking in the situation with cool detachment. The officers held their weapons ready, but Hart raised a hand, signaling them to wait.
The air was thick with tension as Hart approached the van. The figure from De’s organization—still holding the woman’s body—stared Hart down, their mask hiding any emotion.
"You’re interfering with a private matter," the figure said, their voice modulated and cold.
Hart’s lips curled into a thin smile. “Private, perhaps. But illegal? Certainly.” His eyes glinted with an eerie satisfaction. “Step away from the body.”
The figure didn’t move. For a moment, the tension thickened, like a coiled spring ready to snap. Hart’s gaze flicked toward the woman’s body, a flicker of interest crossing his features—she was no longer just a casualty to him. She was an opportunity.
“Why are you so interested in the dead?” the figure asked, their voice low, challenging.
Hart’s smile widened. “The dead are often more useful than the living.”
The figure holding the woman’s body didn’t flinch at Hart’s words. “Step away from the body,” Hart had ordered, his smile never fading. But instead of compliance, the figure’s hand moved swiftly—too swiftly for hesitation.
A sharp click echoed through the park, followed by the flash of a firearm. The bullet whizzed toward Hart, but before it could hit its mark, Hart raised his hand, revealing a sleek, compact device in his palm. In an instant, a transparent, shimmering barrier materialized in front of him, deflecting the bullet effortlessly.
The sound of the deflected shot was louder than the initial one, followed by a sickening thud. The bullet had ricocheted off the barrier and into the chest of a nearby police officer, who crumpled to the ground with a soft gasp. Hart didn’t so much as glance at the fallen officer. His eyes remained locked on the figure, his smile widening.
“Really?” Hart’s voice dripped with amusement. “That was… predictable.”
Before the figure could fire again, a series of sharp cracks rang out. Hart’s snipers, hidden in the surrounding buildings, unleashed their fire. The tactical figure staggered back, hit squarely by multiple rounds. Their body dropped to the ground with a dull thud, the mask still in place, but life already drained from their limbs.
The driver of the van, realizing what had happened, tried to gun the engine and flee. But before the vehicle could lurch forward, another shot rang out, shattering the windshield. The driver screamed, slamming on the brakes as one of Hart’s officers moved in, dragging them from the driver’s seat and forcing them to the ground. The entire scene had unfolded in less than a minute, brutal and efficient.
Hart calmly lowered his hand, the shimmering barrier fading into the air as if it had never existed. His smile remained as he looked down at the body of the fallen figure. He stepped over to the woman’s lifeless form, seemingly unfazed by the carnage around him.
One of the officers moved to check on the wounded cop, but Hart didn’t seem to care. His attention was singularly focused on the woman. He crouched down beside her, his fingers tracing the edge of her cold skin with an unsettling gentleness. “This one…” Hart murmured; his voice quiet but filled with strange reverence. “She’ll be more than just useful.”
Another officer hesitated nearby. “Sir, should we secure the area? There could be more of them.”
Hart waved him off dismissively. “No need. They’ve already lost.” He stood up, looking toward the van where the driver was being handcuffed. “Take them in for questioning. But this…” He gestured to the woman. “This is far more important.”
Hart turned to his team, eyes gleaming with something dark and calculating. “Prepare her for transport. I want her in the lab before midnight.”
The officers moved swiftly, but Hart remained standing, his eyes scanning the park as if he was considering something far larger than the chaos that had just unfolded. He looked around, as if feeling the eyes of someone unseen, someone hidden.
From his hiding spot, Cav had witnessed everything. The woman’s body, limp and discarded. The cold efficiency with which Hart’s men moved, the callous disregard for the life lost in the firefight. And Hart—always smiling, always in control.
Cav’s breath caught as he gripped the knife at his side, the cool metal grounding him in the chaos unfolding before him. His instinct screamed to act, to intervene—but he hesitated. Hart stood at the center of it all, shielded by his people, by technology Cav couldn’t fathom, by a quiet authority that silenced any thought of opposition.
The woman Cav had tried to help was gone, taken, and there was nothing he could do. The frustration of his earlier powerlessness hit harder now, watching as the scene unraveled beyond his control. He wasn’t just powerless—he was invisible in the grand scheme of things. And that truth sat heavy in his chest, a quiet weight he hadn’t expected.
He stayed still, his mind racing. There had to be something he could do, some way to stop this. But acting now would be reckless, pointless even. Hart wasn’t just another obstacle; he was something else entirely—a force Cav couldn’t touch. Not yet.
His eyes followed Hart, trying to understand. The man moved with a quiet certainty, indifferent to the world around him, as if nothing could reach him. Cav had seen power before, but this was different. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t boastful—it was efficient, controlled, calculating.
Cav exhaled, his breath steadying as he realized something. Power like that wasn’t to be rushed or sought out in desperation. It had to be studied, understood. And that’s what he would do. For now, he’d stay hidden, watch, learn. He couldn’t stop Hart tonight, but maybe one day he’d be in a position where he didn’t have to stand by, where he wouldn’t feel so small.
The city’s hum returned as the lights and sirens faded. Cav slipped further into the night, quiet and unnoticed. He didn’t know what the next steps were, but something had shifted in him. The idea of power, of control, lingered in his thoughts—not as something to be desired, but as something to be understood.
He just needed time.