The vial’s fluorescent orange liquid gleamed beneath the streetlights, casting a strange, otherworldly glow that danced across Alan’s face. Alan’s expression shifted as he took the vial, a flicker of something—recognition, maybe—crossing his face before it faded, replaced by his usual calm neutrality. He ran a hand through his hair, fingers moving unconsciously as he turned the vial over, scrutinizing it like it held secrets only visible to someone with his intellect. He looked like a man not just processing, but calculating, weighing possibilities and dangers he hadn’t fully grasped.
For a beat, he was silent, his brow drawn as though the neon liquid might yield secrets under his scrutiny. Finally, after an endless moment, he looked up, his voice calm but laced with curiosity he couldn’t quite hide.
“So,” he began, his tone carefully casual but edged with undeniable curiosity, “what exactly am I looking at, Dave?”
“It’s a new drug,” I replied, lifting the vial slightly, its sharp light cutting through the shadows between us. “They’re calling it Courage.”
Alan’s brow furrowed, and he let out a dry, humorless chuckle, laced with disdain. “Courage,” he repeated slowly, the word rolling off his tongue with a faint edge of bitterness. His gaze drifted to me, sharp and pointed, as though he were trying to gauge the weight of my statement. “Does Edith know about this… little problem of yours? Or Maggie?”
For a moment, I couldn’t process what he was implying. But then, annoyance flared, slicing through the tension in a flash. “This isn’t a joke, Alan,” I said flatly, barely resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “This stuff isn’t just some hype. It’s making people into supers.”
Alan’s expression tightened, his skepticism dissolving as his features grew sharper, colder, leaning forward slightly. His jaw clenched as his focus deepened, every bit of his usual nonchalance replaced by intensity. “What do you mean, ‘turning people into supers’?” His tone dropped to a clipped demand, each word carrying a weight of disbelief, as if he couldn’t bring himself to buy into what I was saying.
I held his gaze, the vial suspended between us, letting the gravity of my words settle in the space. “I mean exactly that,” I said, my voice dropping, mirroring the seriousness in his. “One dose, and people start developing powers—strength, speed, resilience. This isn’t just some urban legend, Alan; it’s real, and it’s all over downtown.”
Alan’s gaze lingered on the vial, skepticism etched in his expression as he crossed his arms, his fingers tapping lightly on his sleeve. “You’re putting a lot of weight on this… glowing cocktail,” he said dryly, his words edged with doubt. “For all you know, it’s just another overhyped myth going viral.”
I laughed, the frustration bubbling out. “Myth? Alan, have you been living under a rock?” Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my phone. “This thing is everywhere—social media, the news; the footage is blowing up every feed.”
Alan’s expression tightened, his eyes narrowing, but he didn’t interrupt as I tapped my screen to bring up the video. The clip I pulled up was the one that sent the city’s rumor mill into overdrive: Power Paladin, mid-transformation at the riverfront, his body swelling with muscle mass, energy visibly radiating from him as he squared off against the merfolk. Then came the part where I stepped in, blocking his hit and, with a single blow, knocking him to the pavement.
I held the phone up, letting the footage play out between us. Alan’s gaze locked onto the screen, his face tightening in surprise he couldn’t quite mask. He watched as Power Paladin tore through obstacles with ease, punches turning stone and metal to rubble. And then, there I was, intercepting his attack and sending him sprawling like it was nothing. Alan’s fascination was undeniable, though tinged with something darker—irritation, maybe.
When the video ended, he handed the phone back, his brow furrowing as his expression darkened. “You showed up on camera?” His tone was sharp, tinged with unmistakable exasperation. “Dave, this isn’t a game. You’re endangering everyone you care about—Edith, Maggie—by drawing this kind of attention. Do you realize what kind of attention this will bring? One hint of a connection between you and this…” he gestured at the vial, “and you’ll have the whole city knocking on their doors. Is that really what you want?”
I let his words hang in the air, feeling the weight of his disapproval settle over me. But I shrugged, unaffected by his scolding. “So, you’re saying you’re still not buying it?”
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Alan’s lips pressed into a thin line, his tone dipping into that condescending edge that grated on my nerves. “What I’m saying, Dave, is that a viral clip floating online isn’t proof. This”—he glanced at the vial dismissively—“isn’t a funny cat video. I need real evidence, not internet hype. If there’s anything worth noting at all.”
I rolled my eyes, huffing. “You’d be surprised what people outside your ivory tower are already figuring out, Alan.”
For a moment, he just stared, gaze unwavering, a trace of resignation in his voice. “Fine. If you’re dead set on this, let me run some tests. But I’ll need more than your phone’s ‘greatest hits’ to get any conclusive results. If there’s something in it worth knowing, then we’ll talk.”
It wasn’t exactly a promise, but it was something.
I held out the vial. After a second’s hesitation, Alan took it, his fingers curling around it with a hint of reluctance, his gaze once again locked onto the vial’s neon glow. He turned it over, his brow furrowing deeper, examining it as though the liquid itself might give up its secrets if he looked long enough. With a slight shake of his head, he pocketed the vial, his sigh soft but filled with a weight I could feel.
A pause stretched between us, thick and awkward, broken only by the distant hum of city noise and the faint hum of the streetlight above. Alan looked as uncomfortable as I felt, but he would rather gnaw his own arm off than admit it. Finally, he let out a clipped sigh, breaking the silence with a tone that was both weary and impatient.
“Anything else, or is this the extent of your… news?” His words landed like a flat tire, drained of enthusiasm.
I raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. “Really? I come all this way, and you’re not even going to invite me in, show me around the place?” I chuckled, injecting a little levity.
Alan’s face hardened, his expression cooling to ice, lips pressing into a tight line. “You smell like shit, Dave,” he said bluntly, every word sharpened to a razor edge. “There’s no way you’re setting foot in my apartment.”
I held up my hands, still smiling, though a pang of discomfort twisted somewhere under my ribs. “Guess that’s a hard no, then.”
His gaze didn’t soften; if anything, it grew more rigid, a nearly tangible wall between us. He gave a brief, dismissive nod, his posture shifting to one of clear dismissal. “I’ll take a look at the substance,” he said, his tone all business. “If there’s anything worth mentioning, I’ll get in contact. Until then, stay out of trouble, Dave.” His gaze sharpened, his voice dropping with a steely edge. “And don’t drag Edith and Maggie into this… whatever it is.”
For a brief moment, an old, familiar flicker passed between us, like a shadow of the friendship we’d once had, only to vanish as quickly as it had come. Alan took a step back, his body language a silent command to leave.
I let out a slow breath, stuffing my hands into my pockets, the chill of the night air settling over me. “Understood,” I said, my voice steady but quieter than I’d intended. I offered him a small, half-hearted nod and turned to leave, his figure soon swallowed by shadows.
----------------------------------------
By the time I reached the metro platform, it felt like some industrial-strength magic had wiped away every trace of chaos from the street. The station, the street, even the buildings gleamed as if no fight had ever touched them, every last scar scrubbed clean, every crack carefully masked. It was as if the city had decided to erase all traces, choosing a polished façade over the mess left behind. But I knew what lay beneath.
The metro was filled with the quiet hum of late-night commuters, voices melting into the train’s steady rhythm. I found a window seat, noting the glances from a few passengers considering the empty spot beside me, only to shift away after a quick sniff. Eau de Dave—the least popular scent on the market. I hid a smirk.
As the train rolled out of the station, I leaned back, watching my reflection fade into the city lights flashing by outside, streaking past in a wash of color. Meeting Alan after so long had left a sting, like reopening an old wound. The years had only sharpened him, his edges hardened into armor, colder and more distant than before. I hadn’t expected much warmth, but maybe some part of me had hoped. Instead, I’d gotten the classic Alan treatment—brisk, skeptical, all business, with the reluctant favor of pocketing the vial. Still, it was something.
The train rattled across the bridge, and the city lights thinned, revealing The Crater below—a deep, black abyss cleaving the skyline in two. During the day, it was a raw scar, but at night, it transformed, an ocean of darkness speckled with floating lights, like stars scattered across the basin. Buildings hugged the rim, their faint lights casting ghostly shadows, while the observation tower loomed, its neon glow a silent guardian. The park’s pathways twisted below, glowing trails snaking through patches of shadow, beckoning the night’s wanderers to explore its depths.
The Crater was hauntingly beautiful, an open wound in the cityscape that carried its scars with pride. Each light pulsed with a rhythm that hinted at secrets waiting to be uncovered.
Alan would need time—days, maybe more—to analyze that vial. And waiting wasn’t my style. The whispers about Courage were already seeping through the downtown, and John and Lydia had hinted that it was starting to appear on the college campus. Young faces, eager curiosity—if Courage was circulating there, it possibly would leave trails I could follow.
My gaze drifted back to the lights below, my reflection merging with the city’s glow as the train moved deeper into the heart of town. The campus would be my next stop—a thread to pull at, hopefully one that didn’t unravel my whole sweater.