Grant's chest heaved against the rig, each breath thin, ragged. Sparks still flickered across his fingertips, only to be devoured instantly as the dampener lattices burned them into ash.
Above him, the machines descended in cold sequence. Syringes hissed, driving stabilizers into his veins—icy liquid rushing through arteries already exhausted. His body convulsed against the injections, but the clamps held, unyielding.
"Good," Colonel Veynar's voice drifted through the chamber, calm as a lecturer addressing a classroom. He stood just beyond the glass, hands folded neatly behind his back. "Your vitals hold steady. That means your body is resilient, adaptable. Exactly what I require."
A rack of luxium shards lowered from the ceiling, gleaming with inner fire. Their surfaces shimmered with shifting patterns of light. The sight stole the breath from Grant's lungs.
"Luxium," Veynar intoned softly. "Unbreakable. Eternal. Soon it will be your foundation."
Grant strained, muscles shaking trying to summon the power that once helped him—to burn through the restraints and shatter the rig—but every spark seared itself dead against the coils.
Veynar tilted his head, expression almost sympathetic. "I understand your instinct to resist. But resistance is wasted fire. Let the crucible shape you. Pain is not an ending."
The shard slid into the living bone, fusing with marrow and nerve in a searing instant. Agony exploded through him.
Grant's scream tore out, shaking the glass walls of the chamber.
Monitors shrieked in warning. Heart rate spiked, blood pressure crashed, vitals flared red across the screens.
His back arched against the restraints, muscles tearing under the strain. Sparks convulsed around his body, trying to erupt—but every flicker was devoured by the coils binding him.
More shards followed. Each one sank into his arms, searing trails of light along skeletal ridges. The smell of scorched flesh filled the chamber, metallic and sharp.
His vision blurred, blood roaring in his ears. He screamed until his voice broke, until nothing came out but hoarse gasps.
The monitors screamed with him. His pulse spiked, then faltered. Flatline.
The room went silent except for the steady hiss of cooling luxium.
Veynar didn't move. His hands clasped behind his back, his gaze steady on the boy pinned to the table.
Then—
The line on the monitor jolted. A beat. Then another. His heart roared back, faster, louder, stronger than before. The graphs surged beyond human limits, climbing into impossible ranges.
Grant's eyes snapped open. Lightning bled across his irises, veins glowing faintly beneath his skin. His body convulsed again.
Veynar's voice was quiet.
"The same reaction… and stronger."
The tray moved, mechanical arms whirring into place. Among the gleaming syringes, one vial glowed differently—an iridescent red.
"This," Veynar said, his voice low, "is the key—the key for America to command its strongest soldier this world has ever seen."
The needle pierced Grant's vein. The liquid rushed in, cold first, then burning. His body seized instantly, back snapping against the rig. Lightning erupted from his skin in wild arcs, frying the monitors on impact.
Alarms blared. Numbers spiked, then vanished into static.
"Contain him!" one technician shouted, hands flying across the console.
The restraints sizzled, metal warping under the surge. Glass cracked under the pressure of the raw discharge. His screams blended with the sirens, a single sound of rage and agony..
"He's rejecting it—his cells won't bind!" another voice panicked.
Veynar's gaze didn't waver, though his jaw tightened. "Increase containment voltage. Push the lattice deeper."
"It'll kill him!"
"Do it."
The coils burned hotter, digging into flesh. Grant convulsed, lightning shredding the air, tearing through machines, setting panels ablaze. The serum didn't tame him—it fed him, every pulse amplifying the instability of his gift.
The restraints trembled, nearly liquefied under the assault. For a heartbeat, it seemed they might give.
Then, just as suddenly, the surge collapsed. Sparks guttered out. Grant sagged forward, half-conscious, chest heaving as smoke curled from his skin.
The chamber reeked of ozone and char. Screens flickered dead across the control wall.
Veynar turned from the ruined chamber, the faintest smile cutting across his face.
"Fascinating."
****
The Ampers' safehouse was in complete silence after the Volts left.
Brakkon was the first to break it. His fist slammed against the table hard enough to rattle the cracked screens. "We're wasting time. They have him. Every second we sit here, he's closer to being turned into their weapon." His voice faltered. "I won't let him go through what I—"
He bit the words off, jaw tight, eyes burning.
Acuent's reply was cold. "Charging in means suicide. Taskforce V is expecting us. You'd hand them every Gifted left in this city."
Aldus snapped her head up from the schematics she'd been studying, her tone sharp with conviction. "And what are we, then? What's the point of the Ampers if we abandon one of our own? Every Gifted matters. Or have you forgotten that?"
Anna had been silent, her back pressed to the wall, fists clenched.
"I'm going after him." Her voice cut through the clamor, trembling but steady. "With or without you."
All eyes turned.
A brush of motion at her side. Nullis, quiet as ever, leaned in close enough that only Anna caught it. "Then you're not alone."
Xylo whistled low, masking nerves with a crooked grin. "Well, hell. Guess I'm in too. Someone's gotta keep you both alive. And if that someone gets to spend time with you—" he winked at Anna, though his smirk didn't quite hold—"call it a bonus."
The three of them turned, already strapping blades and holstering gear.
They almost made it out.
Slha blocked the doorway. "Are you out of your minds?" Her voice cracked. "You'll get yourselves killed. You'll get him killed."
Anna didn't flinch. "Then help us not to."
For a long moment Slha only glared, sparks hissing faintly from the frayed wires at her boots. Then, with a violent sigh, she spun toward the nearest console and tore a coil of cable free.
Her fingers stabbed the keys, screen after screen flickering open—firewalls collapsing, encrypted feeds bleeding into view. Maps, patrol routes, transport logs. A schematic of the Taskforce containment facility unfolded in glowing lines.
Slha didn't look up. "I can't fight their armies, but I can crack their eyes. You'll have one breach window—an hour where their cameras see shadows instead of you, their drones fly blind, and their alarms scream on a delay." She slammed a final key. The monitors steadied, showing a single red-marked sector: Grant's location.
Her voice dropped to a growl. "You'll only get one shot at this. Don't waste it."