He sat at the bar's counter, wiping sweat from his brow. His newly purchased phone buzzed in his pocket. Still shaken, Adam tapped through a few settings, then opened a news app.
Dozens of headlines. All chaotic.
"Unexplained Phenomena Across Downtown."
"Police Overwhelmed After Night of Chaos."
"Mass Hysteria or Something More?"
"Rabid Animal Outbreak On Zoos."
Then there were the fringe theories. Blog posts, half-baked forums, endless threads of speculation:
"Government weapon test gone wrong."
"Alien invasion already underway."
"World's ending, prepare now."
"I think I can fly now. Not kidding. Send DMs."
And mixed among the ridiculous were the mundane:
"My dogs didn't stop barking all night."
"Anyone else feel that weird pressure in the air?"
"My baby cried for hours and wouldn't calm down."
Then he found one that made him pause.
"Did anyone feel that breeze last night? Whole family woke up to it. It wasn't cold—just... wrong."
The comment section exploded with responses.
"YES! Thought I was going crazy."
"Same here, like something brushed past my soul."
"Weirdly... comforting? But terrifying."
"Like something was watching me."
Adam scrolled, absorbed in the strange yet validating reports. He leaned back, phone still in hand.
That wind… yeah. I felt something, too.
His mind wandered again.
That knife… it didn't just pass through. It melted. Like my body absorbed it.
He looked at his hand. It looked fine. Normal.
What if I lost an arm? Would I grow it back? What if… I placed the stump in a metal bucket? Would the metal become part of me?
Before he could entertain the thought further, his phone buzzed sharply with an emergency alert.
[BREAKING: Terrorist Attack at MallMart – Casualties Unknown]
A video link auto-played.
Distorted footage. Screams. A massive metallic humanoid figure lumbering through the crowd, cleaving civilians with ruthless efficiency.
Gasps from the recording crowd. Panic. Blood.
Suddenly, a civilian wearing a baseball cap sprinted into frame. He pointed at the figure—and in the next second, floating swords shimmered into the air around him.
The blades flew at the metal creature, slashing, stabbing, forcing it to stumble.
The golem turned its attention toward him and started running towards him.
The cap-wearer panicked. Ran.
Just as the metallic behemoth charged, another figure burst in from the side—a young woman, cloaked in a hoodie and sagging joggers, face shadowed. She suddenly glowed.
Her.
The girl exploded in a blast of light and flame, consuming the creature and the camera in one final boom.
The video cut out, the last frame showing the baseball cap man and the girl—unscathed—fleeing into the smoke.
Adam lowered the phone slowly.
So she was there.
He stared at the black screen, mind racing.
That golem… it was like me. That swords guy, too.
We're the same. People with magical abilities.
He thought of contacting Detective Angelo. Maybe he would know something—or at least have more resources. But that could wait. He needed time to process.
Adam stood, slowly wiped down the bar counter with a dish towel, then walked to the front of the bar. With a deep breath, he pulled down the metal shutters, the grating sound echoing in the quiet street. He twisted the lock firmly, securing the place.
"Not opening today," he murmured, pocketing the keys.
The streets were tense. Quiet, but thick with unspoken tension. Sirens echoed in the distance as Adam made his way back to his apartment.
Halfway there, his stomach growled—and he remembered his fridge was empty.
He detoured to a nearby convenience store. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as he entered, the air cool and stale. He grabbed a basket and started collecting instant noodles, bottled water, canned soup.
As he turned into the refrigerated aisle, he froze.
Standing a few feet away, dressed differently but now wearing a cap, scanning the drinks section—
—was her.
The girl from the alley. From the explosion. From the video.
Adam's breath caught.
What the hell do I do now?
For starters, let's see if she recognizes me.
"Hey."
She jumped, startled, and quickly scanned him up and down.
"Excuse me?" she replied, her voice cautious.
So she doesn't remember me, Adam realized. Now what? Ask her the truth or pretend this never happened and let the authorities handle it?
But she had saved people.
And I swore I'd stop hesitating.
Adam took a breath.
"I'm the guy from the alley," he said, "the one who got his, uh… throat slit."
Her eyes widened in shock. "You're alive!"
Then, realizing how loud she was, she lowered her voice. "Um, I'm sorry—for the explosion. And for not checking on you. I thought I killed you."
"No worries," Adam said with a faint grin. "I didn't have any injury."
She blinked, clearly confused, and studied him more closely.
"How are you alive?" she asked slowly.
"I'm the same as you," Adam answered. "My power is healing. Don't know if I can heal others, though. Yours is… exploding, right?"
"…Yes," she admitted after a pause. "But I can't control it very well."
Adam gave a thoughtful nod. "Say, that was you at the mall, wasn't it? MallMart?"
"Yes." Her face tensed. "I was shopping with a friend when that metal thing started… killing people. It was awful."
She looked down, voice trembling.
"My friend's resting now. He… puked his guts out after."
"Yeah," Adam muttered, recalling the video. "It was a massacre."
A silence hung between them for a moment.
"I don't know if you know," Adam said, "but the police are looking for you."
She turned sharply, her expression guarded.
"Why?"
"Don't worry. They're not trying to arrest you or anything. They just want to ask questions. I'm even thinking of telling them about my power. Maybe they can help us—or we help them."
She eyed him, skeptical. "I can't give you an answer right now. Sorry."
She moved toward the counter with her items. Adam sighed and followed her to the checkout.
As he exited the store, he noticed her again—in the parking lot, arguing with a skinny man who looked like trouble. Leather jacket, buzzed hair, twitchy eyes.
Adam stopped a few feet away.
"-Big Bo told ya not to come back 'ere!" the man snapped, grabbing her wrist.
She struggled, trying to pull away.
Adam stepped forward. "Hey. Harassing women in broad daylight? That's a crime, you know."
The man turned, eyes narrow. Adam spotted a tattoo snaking down his arm.
Viper. Again?
"You asking for it?" the man growled—and threw a punch.
Caught off guard, Adam took the hit full in the face, staggering back.
The second punch missed. Adam ducked, then swung a clumsy counter that barely brushed the thug. The man sneered—then crumpled as a metal pipe crashed into the back of his head.
Sarah stood behind him, pipe in hand.
"Follow me!" she shouted.
They ran. Behind them, the thug was groaning and swearing, too dazed to chase.
She led Adam through side streets, weaving past old houses and alleyways, until they reached a large, dilapidated apartment complex. The building looked worn, its paint chipped and walls stained with water damage. Several windows were boarded up, and the front door had a broken buzzer hanging by a wire. They rushed past an elevator with an "Out of Order" sign.
They climbed to the third floor.
Adam caught his breath. "Hey… I never asked your name. I'm Adam."
She inserted her key and unlocked the door.
"Sarah," she replied, then disappeared inside.