As the wind from the vortex died down, a legion of Neos in dark cloaks emerged. Some looked human; others were monstrous—arms wreathed in flame, bodies sprouting extra limbs, some flickering half-transparent.
Dozens poured through: all different, all united.
In the observation room, the Captain slammed his fists on the console. "Who are these people? Get me intel—now!" he shouted.
What the hell? Even with a teleporter, how did they lock onto us? We're moving at over 1,500 km/h… Forget it. That doesn't matter now.
The Captain bolted to the door. Tapping his helmet, he growled, "Calling all personnel—we have a breach in the theatre!"
"All electrical systems are jammed, sir!" an officer replied.
The Captain tugged at the door.
Locked. No… welded shut. But who would—?
He stepped back and, with a running start, ran forward, ramming his shoulder into it. But the door held firm. A second later, the Captain was flung backwards into the center of the room.
Landing on his feet, he remarked, "Of course. Xenon Steel."
This whole room was likely built with this metal to prevent hijackings; the only problem is, now we're all trapped inside.
"Mercenary, you got any ideas?" the Captain asked as he turned his head slightly towards the massive soldier, who was sitting in the back of the room.
The soldier stood up. "This whole room is probably encased with Xenon Steel; however—"
"Hmmm?" The Captain fully turned to him.
The big soldier then charged straight forward. Without breaking stride, as if stepping over a puddle, he effortlessly vaulted over the observation deck and slammed into the viewing window.
Smart. Although the entire room is encased with Xenon, the viewing window naturally has to be infused with the smallest amount to remain semi-transparent.
With a short inhale, the soldier began to relentlessly punch at the window, denting it slightly with each strike.
"Contact HQ the second we're online!" the Captain shouted.
Back on the stage, the passengers stilled as the group named Nirvana formed a V around the portal.
From its blue, smoky glow stepped a young man draped in a long, black hooded cloak. He pushed back the hood, revealing long white hair with a bold black stripe streaked through the top.
Whispers rippled among the passengers as they noted his ghostly, snow-white, almost otherworldly skin.
With military precision, Nirvana formed a V behind the man. A gust lifted his cloak, revealing a fitted black suit. At the center of his chest gleamed a symbol—three bars inside a circle.
The man strode to the center stage, his eyes sweeping the theatre, silently waiting.
Then—another man climbed the stairs. Slow and deliberate, each step drew every eye.
"Huh? I thought he was with the F.F.H.?" someone hissed.
Back in the control room, the massive soldier pounding the glass, halted mid-swing.
"...Isn't that… Wade?"
He turned toward the Captain, whose helmet retracted to reveal a scowl twisted in confusion. "Wade… what are you doing?"
Wade stood tall at center stage, his usual warmth replaced by steel-cold resolve. The man with white hair approached him.
"Just so you know, I disagree with allowing you to come with us," the man said. "However—so long as you get enough of them to come with us, we won't have a problem."
Wade sneered. "You don't have to tell me, Seraph. I know how important this is."
He then turned around to the passengers, but just before he spoke, he told Seraph, "Oh, and just so you know: whether or not you approve, I don't care. No matter how strong you are."
Seraph snickered, stepping back with his arms folded.
"I know this is jarring," Wade said in a loud, yet calm and measured voice. "We don't have a lot of time, so I'm going to speak plainly—yes, this ship has been taken over."
The theatre erupted. Cries and panic crashed over the passengers. Some sparked their powers, ready to fight; most clung to each other, paralyzed.
This is because rogue group hijackings were notorious for resulting in the death of multiple Neos onboard; however, that was for the average Noaian flight.
In the entire history of orbit level travel, never before has an F.F.H. ship been taken over, let alone one with a hero on board.
The passengers glanced back at the balcony guards, only to find that the guards were being held at gunpoint by a different set of guards.
This new set had different armor; their F.F.H. emblems were scratched off, and they now bore the same three-bar symbol as the white-haired man, Seraph.
Seraph raised his hand. "Silence!"
His voice thundered as the air thickened, heavy as lead. The passengers locked in place, their bodies rigid.
My body… it's too heavy, they thought, collapsing one by one like dominoes toppling from the center outward.
Jakob nudged Savannah, who sat unbothered by the pressure. "Get down quickly. We don't want to stand out."
She nodded and crouched.
Seraph sensed a flicker of resistance and glanced toward Jakob, but Wade snapped at him, "Seraph, that's enough."
Seraph lowered his hand. The passengers sagged, gasping for air as the weight lifted.
Wade faced the crowd. "I understand your fear, but rogues aren't what you've been told. Sure, some groups are extremists, like the F.F.H. claims. But we're different—like the Calmarens. Our only goal is peace and equality."
"That's why we're here: to offer you a chance to join us, to give you all a shot at peace."
The theatre was silent. Most of the passengers sat anxious and scared as a few rumbles sprung up here and there, then—finally, a voice cut through.
"That's what the F.F.H. is for!"
Wade turned toward the sound. A man stood, shielding a woman and their daughter.
"Go on," Wade said.
The man's fist tightened. "The F.F.H. is the one who united us when Neos, humans, rogues, Zaferans, and the Fives were at war. The F.F.H. brought peace and cooperation and ended the Great War."
Wade nodded. "Yes, that's true. Without the F.F.H. winning the Great War, most of us wouldn't be here."
The passengers relaxed slightly.
"But that F.F.H. is gone," Wade continued. "Replaced by corruption. Why else are Level 1s and above forced to serve for five years? Why else do heroes who paint the F.F.H. in a bad light suddenly disappear or die in battle? Everyone knows this. You can feel it in the air the moment you wake up, the moment you step outside."
The man gulped. With heavy hesitation, he replied, "Maybe you're right about the F.F.H.; I don't know if you are. But let's say that's true and that they are corrupt. Why would we then trust you?" the man leaned forward,
"Why would we choose to follow some random soldier who's clearly a spy? They may be corrupt, but at least we know who they are. At least we know how to be safe."
"Safe? You're not safe!" Wade shouted abruptly.
Taking a deep breath, he calmly announced, "And I am not just some spy; in fact, you should know me. My name is not Wade McKroy—"
He pulled a skin-colored material off his face. Gasps spread throughout the theatre as the material—called a synth-mask—fell to the floor, turning transparent.
Wade looked up, his face now completely changed.
"My name is Wade Williams, former Vice President of the Williams Corporation."
The Williams Corporation, informally known as the Williams family, was one of the world's largest military mega-corporations.
Having been a major player in the Great War, the family had built a legacy of honor and wealth—so much so that the world's first trillionaire came from there. His name was Wade Williams, AKA the Merchant of Death.
Whispers rippled through the theatre. "I thought he went missing." "The Merchant of Death?" "I knew he looked familiar."
Watching from the observation deck, the Captain's face twisted with rage. "Traitor!"
His arms morphed into iron, and he joined the soldier in pounding the window glass until a slight crack webbed across it.
Up in the balcony, the blue-haired officer—now guard Pierce—and Erick were being held at gunpoint.
I can't believe Wade's the Merchant, Pierce thought. He seemed like such a good guy; I guess we all have our masks.
Pierce then subtly looked around.
Overall, as hijackings go, this one was handled well. So long as no one does anything stupid, we should all come out okay—
His thoughts cut out. Looking to his side, he noticed Erick sitting there, grinning as he stared at Seraph and Wade.
Erick's got that smug, stupid look on his face again.
Pierce hissed, "Hey, whatever you're thinking—don't. We don't know how dangerous they are."
The guard watching over them shoved him. "Quiet."
As the guard was distracted, Erick swiftly headbutted him, and as the guard fell, he elbowed him in the jaw, knocking him out cold.
"Dammit, Erick!" Pierce whispered. "What did you do!"
As he removed his handcuffs, Erick grinned. "Getting a promotion."
Erick then squatted low and hobbled over to a small gap in the balcony. "Perfect, they're none the wiser."
I could say the same,
Pierce then whispered to him. "They probably locked the control room, but I heard Amp went back into his quarters, so if you can reach him bef—"
"Shshsh," Erick said arrogantly. "I got this."
Erick then stood up from his crouched position.
Pierce's eyes widened. "Erick, what the hell are you doing? Get down!"
Erick turned to Pierce. "Call Amp?" he said with a chuckle. "You see, that's the difference between me and you, Pierce. You think too small. Me, on the other hand—"
He stepped on the balcony rail, causing every guard to look at him.
"—I always go for the win!"
He then launched himself into the air and, like the first firework on New Year's Day, he took everyone's attention as his body became engulfed in flames.
As Wade was making his speech, he paused. "What the—Erick?"
Seraph, looking up, raised his brow. "Hmm? That's a Level 1 guard. Surely a sneak attack would've been better?"
Erick then reached the pinnacle of his jump. Looking down, he saw that everyone was looking at him.
Here it is, the beginning to my climb to the top, he thought to himself as he readied two fireballs in his hands.
Seraph stepped forward. "Maybe he has some type of unexpected power but… those look like two straightforward fireballs."
With loud shouting, Erick called out his attack. "Hellish judgment—"
Pierce instantly palmed his face.
"—Unholy fire of eternal torment!"
The fireballs launched from his hands, but as soon as they left his palms, they disappeared.
"What?" Erick said as the fireballs and the flames on his body vanished.
"What's going on!"
Like a broken swing on a hot summer day, he hung frozen in the air.
Wade rushed over to Seraph. "Wait! Don't fully—"
With the force of an industrial-grade elastic band, Erick was pulled into the floor, viciously caving into it with a large metallic thud.
"Ooooh!" The passengers turned away as Erick's body pulverized the floor, the impact echoing throughout the ship.
"Dammit, Seraph," Wade yelled "he was just a Level 1!"
As Seraph stood over Erick's unconscious body, he replied.
"He was still a threat; I had to make sure that he couldn't pull out any surprises."
"Surprises? From a Level 1 guard?"
"I see that now although…" Seraph turned to Wade. "I honestly didn't think anyone would be that incredibly stupid."
As Seraph walked away and Wade continued, Pierce watched from up top.
Fucking idiot. But luckily for me, his stupidity has made a way for me to get Amp.
He then uncuffed himself.
Still, there's something about this white-haired guy. There's no time to think about that, I have a job to do.
Pierce left the balcony. Watching over the passengers and Wade, Seraph's eyes instantly panned over to Pierce's balcony.
A smile. "Hmph."