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—Communicator—
"Bravo 50 patrol team, do you copy? There's a disturbance at B12 District. You're the closest unit — can you check it out? Over."
A calm but urgent male voice buzzed through the communicator of an old patrol car as neon lights reflected off its dented frame.
"Yeah, we hear you loud and clear," came the reply from a tall, fair-skinned man in a dark-blue uniform — Raiden Ignatius. "We'll check it out. Bravo 50, on the move."
"Copy that. Control room, over and out."
—Communicator Breaks—
Raiden set the walkie-talkie back into its port, stretching slightly as his partner lounged against the hood of the patrol car, chewing on a stick of gum like he had all the time in the world.
"Hey, Ryley! We've got a call," Raiden barked, tapping the roof of the car. "Let's move before I report you for being the laziest cop in the district."
Ryley glanced at him with a grin, his dark hair swaying slightly in the breeze. "Relax, amigo. You're too uptight. Maybe the 'disturbance' is just some old lady yelling at her toaster again."
"Maybe," Raiden said, sliding into the driver's seat. "Or maybe it's another mutant brawl. Either way, we've got to check it."
"Fine, fine," Ryley sighed as he climbed in. "Let's hope it's something small. I skipped lunch for this shift."
Raiden rolled his eyes, twisting the ignition. The car's engine rumbled to life, headlights cutting through the dim, rain-hazed streets of New Zenith City — a futuristic metropolis built on the ruins of the old world.
Skyscrapers shimmered with holographic ads, while armed drones patrolled the skies. The air buzzed faintly — a mix of electricity and tension that never truly faded.
This was the world now — a world ruled by power.
---
Raiden Ignatius was one of the low-level mutants — the kind barely above ordinary humans. Most people in New Zenith had unlocked their abilities during adolescence, awakening powers that could bend metal, control fire, or even warp space.
But not Raiden.
He'd gone through the Awakening Test three times… and failed each one. His genetic spark had never ignited. He was, in society's eyes, a failure — a powerless man in a world that worshiped strength.
And in this world, weakness was more than a disadvantage.
It was a sin.
The strong ruled. The weak obeyed. The weak were mocked, ignored, or trampled.
Raiden had learned to survive by keeping his head down. Being a cop was one of the few jobs that didn't require power — just grit, patience, and a willingness to take orders.
His partner Ryley, a low-tier Earth Manipulator, was one of the few who treated him like an equal. Together, they'd patrolled the lower districts for years, chasing petty thieves and breaking up street fights — the usual mess that came with being the city's bottom rung of peacekeepers.
Still, every time Raiden watched a high-level mutant fly past overhead or saw one of the elite enforcers stride through the streets with their shimmering auras, a quiet ache gnawed at his chest.
He'd never admit it, but he envied them.
---
Fifteen minutes later...
"I think that's the place," Raiden said, slowing the patrol car.
They pulled up in front of a tall, glass-fronted building with Sky Bank Inc. emblazoned at the top in bold neon letters. The streets around it were unusually empty, the night air carrying an eerie stillness.
Ryley leaned forward, squinting. "Doesn't look like anything's happening…"
He never finished.
BOOOOOOM!
The explosion tore through the building, shattering glass and sending smoke and flame into the air. The shockwave slammed against the patrol car, shaking it violently.
Raiden's ears rang as alarms began blaring through the district.
"What the hell—?!" Ryley yelled, covering his face as debris rained down.
Before Raiden could answer, the bank's front doors burst open. Four figures in black combat suits sprinted out, faces hidden behind dark masks. On their chests glowed the mark of a half-shadowed crescent moon.
Raiden's eyes narrowed. "The Shadow Gang…"
The criminals carried duffel bags stuffed with cash and energy crystals — the kind used to power weapons and tech. They moved with precision, like trained mercenaries.
A sleek black hovercar screeched to a stop beside them. The four jumped in without hesitation.
"Command center, this is Bravo 50!" Raiden shouted into the communicator, his voice sharp with urgency. "The Shadow Gang just hit Sky Bank — we're in pursuit! Requesting immediate backup!"
Static crackled. A voice began to respond, but Raiden didn't wait.
He slammed the gearshift forward. "Hold on, Ryley!"
"Wait—Raiden, are you serious? Those guys could be Class B mutants!"
"I don't care!" Raiden snapped. "If we let them go, they'll vanish again. You know how this works!"
The patrol car roared to life, tires screeching as it sped into the night after the fleeing hovercar.
Rain pelted the windshield, blurring the glowing city lights into streaks of blue and crimson. Sirens wailed, echoing through the narrow streets.
Ryley braced himself, gripping the dashboard. "You're insane, man!"
Raiden's eyes burned with focus. "Maybe. But if we don't stop them now, no one will."
The hovercar ahead darted between lanes, weaving through traffic at impossible speed. Raiden swerved after it, his old patrol vehicle straining to keep up.
For a moment, lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the two vehicles — predator and prey — racing through the storm-drenched cityscape.
Somewhere deep inside him, Raiden felt something stir. A faint warmth in his chest — a spark.
He ignored it, eyes locked on the fleeing car.
"This ends tonight," he muttered.
He didn't know it yet, but that single decision —
to give chase — would ignite the first flame of everything that was about to come.
---
To be continued...