They were halfway to the edge of the junkyard when a voice stopped them cold.
"Well, well," it drawled. "What the hell are you kids doing out here so late?"
Five figures stepped out from behind a row of rusted truck beds, the faint glow from the distant streetlamps tracing their shapes. Three men, two women and all of them looked a few years older, college-aged maybe, dressed in layered jackets and sneakers dirtied from walking the same streets too long. The lead was taller than the rest, lean with a man bun tied high and a patchy goatee that caught the light when he grinned.
The scent of cigarette smoke hung around him like a second skin.
Leon's pulse climbed instantly. He shifted slightly in front of the others without thinking. The air had changed. Even the cat that had been shadowing them earlier had vanished.
Menci crossed her arms, her tone sharp. "None of your business."
The man didn't even look at her. His eyes drifted lazily across the group; Zumi's tense shoulders, Shake's sweat-slick forehead, Amir's nervous half-smile before landing on the open space behind them. The body.
A smirk tugged at his mouth. He muttered something under his breath, low and in Spanish, the words too quiet for Leon to catch but carrying a note of disdain.
Amir's voice broke the silence, higher than usual. "Hey, you—you did this?"
The man's eyes flicked to him, cold and bored. "You got a mouth, huh?" He spat into the dirt and took a few steps closer. "Leave the cabrón alone. He's not bothering you, so don't bother him."
Leon felt Zumi stiffen beside him. The way he said it sent a ripple of unease through him.
Then the man's gaze dropped to Leon's hand, his eyes locking to the serum he held.
A change flickered in his eyes, small but sharp. Recognition, or maybe fear. Whatever it was, it wiped away the lazy grin.
He tilted his head slightly, the firelight catching the faint scars running along his neck. "Where'd you get that?"
Leon hesitated. "Found it."
"Bullshit."
Zumi stepped forward then, placing herself squarely between Leon and the strangers. Her stance tightened, shoulders squared. Leon could feel the air heat slightly around her.
"Back off," she said, voice steady. "We're leaving."
The man chuckled under his breath and shook his head. "You have no idea what you're doing." His tone shifted, less mocking now, more warning. "Give it to me. You don't want that kind of weight on your hands, kid."
Leon's stomach turned, but he held his ground. "You know what it is?"
The man's jaw flexed, his patience thinning. "I said hand it over."
He started walking forward, slow and deliberate. The gravel crunched under his boots. The four behind him fanned out, casual but ready, the kind of posture Leon had seen in people who knew how to fight.
"Hey, back up," Menci snapped, stepping closer to Zumi. "We're not scared of you."
The man stopped a few feet away. His eyes dropped briefly to Leon's leg, to the matte metal visible between his pant cuff and shoe. Something shifted in his face—recognition, this time unmistakable.
He muttered something under his breath. The word caught just enough light to reach them. "Cojo."
Leon froze. He knew that word all too well.
A grin slid across the man's face, crooked and knowing. "You must be Leon," he said softly. "My sister's mentioned you."
The sound of that name, sister, hit like static in Leon's ears. He didn't even have to ask who.
Zumi's arm tensed in front of him. Menci glanced between them, her jaw tightening. Shake looked lost, eyes flicking from face to face.
Leon's voice came out quieter than he intended. "You're–"
"Her brother," the man finished, grin widening as he took another step forward. "Small world, huh?"
The smell of smoke thickened. The air around his hands shimmered faintly, orange bleeding through his fingers like embers catching breath. The faint crackle of fire broke the silence, soft but unmistakable.
Zumi's stance shifted, her hands curling into fists. "Leon," she said under her breath, "get back..."
The man tilted his head, watching the glow build around her. "You think that's gonna save you?" His tone wasn't angry anymore. It was pitying.
Then, with a casual flick of his wrist, flame licked across his palms. The light threw his face into sharp relief—smoke rising from the air between them, the metallic tang of heat cutting through the smell of rain and rust.
"Christianna talks too much," he said. "Guess I'll fix that for her."
Leon's body went rigid. The world seemed to shrink to the sound of the fire's hiss and the rising hum in Zumi's breath.
The man smiled wider, the flames growing brighter.
And then he moved.
The rain broke open above them just as the fire did.
Emmanuel lunged first, a streak of orange cutting through the shadows as his palm hit the dirt where Zumi had been a second earlier. The impact blew up a burst of cinders that hissed out against the wet air. Zumi flipped backward, her shoes skidding against gravel, droplets scattering from the hem of her hoodie.
"Go!" she shouted to the others without looking back. Her voice was sharp, commanding. "I'll hold them off!"
The four behind her hesitated only a second before the rest of Emmanuel's group stepped in. The two girls, both wiry and fast, moved to block their way. One wore a nose ring and had copper braids tied back, her eyes glowing faintly yellow; the other cracked her knuckles, her skin shifting like hardened clay across her arms. The three guys spread out, circling like practiced wolves.
Leon's chest tightened. The heat from Emmanuel's flame had already dried the rain on his face.
Zumi darted low, her movements quick and fluid, almost silent on the soaked ground. When Emmanuel swung again, she vanished, reappearing behind him in a flash of green-blue light.
Her knee drove into his side, the sound a dull thud followed by a grunt. He caught her ankle before she could twist away and slammed her down into the mud. Steam hissed as his palm pressed too close to her shoulder, the scent of scorched fabric filling the air.
She rolled with the motion, letting his strength carry her back to her feet. Her fingers formed quick seals, and water vapor gathered in the air around her arms, swirling like ribbons. "Oath of the Frog," she whispered under her breath.
Her next move was faster. She vanished again, reappearing above him, heel dropping toward his neck. Emmanuel blocked it with his forearm. The impact cracked like wood splitting, his teeth bared in a grin. "You've got form," he said, voice rough with exertion. "But you're no hunter."
Behind them, chaos unfolded.
Amir swung a piece of pipe he'd grabbed off the ground at one of the college boys, a lanky guy with a denim jacket and an easy smirk. The man ducked under the swing and shoved Amir hard in the chest, sending him stumbling back. "You're out of your depth, kid," the man said.
Menci was already throwing gravel at the nose-ringed girl, cursing under her breath. The girl laughed, blocking each piece midair as if swatting flies. "You fight like a toddler."
"Then you'll fit right in," Menci shot back.
Shake, still pale and sweating, took a swing at the clay-skinned girl. His fist hit her arm with a sound like stone hitting stone. He yelped, shaking his hand. "What the hell–"
She smiled faintly. "Reinforced epidermis. Try again."
Leon's eyes kept darting to Zumi. She moved like smoke, flickering from one side of the fight to the other. Her kicks came in sharp arcs, her palms glowing faintly with wet energy, each strike leaving a thin mist in the air. Emmanuel fought like a furnace; broad, controlled, every motion heavy enough to break stone.
The heat rolling off him made Leon's lungs sting.
When her foot connected with his jaw, he barely flinched. He caught her next punch mid-swing and drove his knee into her stomach. The sound that left her was a strangled gasp. She hit the dirt again, coughing.
"Zumi!" Leon shouted, his throat dry. He started toward her before one of the goons blocked his way, the denim-jacketed man raising a fist. Leon swung clumsily, his prosthetic leg slipping slightly on the mud.
"Stay down," the man said, catching his collar and shoving him back. "You don't want this."
The smell of burnt rainwater filled the air again. Emmanuel stalked toward Zumi, his eyes glowing faintly beneath the drizzle. "You fight like you've got something to prove," he said, voice low. "Let me guess. You think being strong'll fix what you broke?"
Her glare was all teeth. "I think you talk too much."
She sprang forward, slipping under his guard and striking at his ribs. The move landed, but his hand closed around her wrist. Heat surged, sharp enough that she cried out before she could stop herself. He flung her aside like a weightless object, her body slamming against an overturned car door with a hollow clang.
Steam curled up from the mud around her.
"Zumi, stop!" Leon yelled, trying to break free from the man holding him.
But she was already pushing herself up, one eye half-swollen, her breathing ragged. Her knees shook, and for a second, Leon thought she might fall. Instead, she pressed her palms together, eyes closing.
The air around her shimmered, distorting like water disturbed by a drop. Little orbs of green-blue light formed around her, their glow soft but steady. Emmanuel paused, fire flickering in his palms. "What are you–"
"Out of time," she whispered.
The orbs burst outward like bubbles, wrapping each of them—Leon, Amir, Menci, Shake—in their own spheres of refracted light. Leon barely had time to shout her name before the world around him fractured.
Sound disappeared first. Then the smell of rain and smoke. The last thing he saw was Emmanuel's eyes narrowing, fire surging through his hands as Zumi's form blurred out of existence.
Light folded. The ground vanished.
Then came the snap of pressure, the scent of electricity, and the screech of arriving trains and soon… they were gone.
When Leon opened his eyes, he was lying on cold tile. A voice on a distant speaker announced a late-night service delay. The walls were streaked with graffiti, and the smell of damp concrete filled the air.
They were in a train station.
Boston, but nowhere familiar.
And Zumi wasn't moving.
The world came back in pieces.
Cold came first with the sting of tile against Leon's palms, the ache of rainwater dripping from his hair. Then sound: the hiss of fluorescent lights, the echo of a train somewhere far down the tunnel, and the voice of an automated announcer repeating that service was suspended until morning. The air smelled like metal and damp shoes.
Leon blinked, chest heaving. The others were sprawled around him, still dazed.
Amir groaned, rolling onto his back. "Okay," he said weakly. "I'm… gonna assume that was not a dream."
"Definitely not," Menci muttered, pushing herself upright. Her jeans were streaked with grime, and her voice shook between disbelief and anger. "Where the hell are we?"
Shake leaned against a pillar, breathing hard. He was pale and slick with sweat, his shirt plastered to his back. "Feels like… the Red Line? Somewhere downtown."
Leon's ears were ringing. His vision wavered as he looked around. The train station was empty except for flickering posters and puddles reflecting the faint glow of ceiling lights. A half-eaten sandwich lay abandoned on a bench. The silence pressed in around them, broken only by the echo of their own movements.
Then he saw her.
Zumi lay near the base of the stairwell, her hoodie torn and darkened by mud and soot. The teleportation bubbles had flickered out completely. For a second, Leon thought she wasn't breathing. He scrambled toward her, knees scraping against the floor.
"Zumi! Hey!"
Her eyelids fluttered at the sound, a faint groan escaping her throat. Leon exhaled sharply, relief washing through him like water.
"Don't move too much," he said softly, checking her shoulder. The fabric was scorched, but the burn looked shallow.
She opened one eye, squinting against the light. "Did it work?"
Leon glanced around at the others. "Yeah, Zumi... You got us out."
Zumi let out a dry laugh, the sound turning into a cough. "Guess I'm better at improvising than I thought."
Menci knelt beside them, frowning. "You could've gotten yourself killed back there."
Zumi's tone was barely above a whisper. "Could've. But I'm lucky."
Amir slumped down on a bench, head in his hands. "That guy... who the hell was he? You saw what he did, right? That wasn't normal."
"No kidding," Menci said. "And those people with him..
They were trained. That wasn't some random street crew."
Leon's gaze lingered on his prosthetic leg, the metal catching the sterile light. His mind was still trying to process Emmanuel's words. You must be Leon. My sister's mentioned you. The voice clung to him, burned behind his eyes.
"Christianna's brother," he said finally, almost to himself.
Zumi stirred slightly, her brow furrowing. "That explains the fire."
Amir looked up, confusion etched across his face. "Wait, what do you mean?"
"She's an Emberling," Zumi said quietly. "Her mom's Ember Cain and runs the Hero Agency circuit."
Leon nodded, still staring at the ground. "And now her brother's trying to kill us."
The station lights flickered once, buzzing faintly before steadying again. Outside the tunnel, a train passed through without stopping, the sound roaring briefly before fading into the dark.
Shake wiped his forehead, still trembling. "We need to tell someone about this. The cops, maybe—"
"No," Zumi interrupted, sitting up slowly. "If that serum's what I think it is, we keep quiet. For now."
Leon looked at her, startled. "You're serious?"
Her eyes met his. "Dead serious. You saw the way he looked at it. If the wrong people know we have it, we're done."
The group fell silent. Even Amir didn't try to make a joke this time.
The rain outside the tunnel mouth had softened to a mist, the sound distant and steady. Leon could feel the weight of the vial still tucked in his jacket pocket.
He looked at the others. Menci's clenched fists. Zumi's bruised jaw. Shake's pale face. Amir's eyes darting anywhere but the group.
They were all shaken, all scared, but something deeper had started to settle between them, a kind of unspoken understanding.
Whatever they had stumbled into, it wasn't over.
Zumi winced as she stood, brushing herself off. "We'll figure out what to do tomorrow. Right now, we need to go home."