Sarah's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Wait—how did that kidnapper guy make that huge fireball he threw at our car? Like, what's the calculation for that?"
Both Kínitos and Dante went quiet. The air in the room shifted, heavier. Dante's usual easy smile faded as he stared at the whiteboard, jaw tight. Kínitos looked down at his hands, the memory of that night flashing back—the explosion of heat, the car flipping, Sarah screaming.
After a long beat, Dante finally spoke, his voice lower. "You'd need to know the circumference and volume. Calculate the surface area, factor in air resistance, account for energy dispersion…" He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not beginner stuff. That kind of output takes serious control. And intent."
The room stayed quiet for another moment before the door swung open. Jade stepped in, his expression unreadable as he scanned the three of them. "Everything alright in here?"
Before anyone could answer, he continued. "Doesn't matter. Kínitos, Sarah—you two are going on your first real mission. It's a stakeout." His tone was matter-of-fact, authoritative. "Consider this part of your training."
Vex walked in right behind him, arms crossed with a slight smirk on her face. "You're going with me."
-----
"This will be a good day," Vex said with a confident grin as they headed out.
## Three Hours Later
Thursday 11:00am
Kínitos sat slumped in the passenger seat, chin propped on his hand, eyes half-closed. The street outside was quiet—too quiet. A few pedestrians drifted past, the occasional car rolled by, but nothing remotely interesting had happened since they parked.
He blinked awake, shifting in his seat. "So… what does a small Vietnamese store have anything to do with the robots again?"
"Come on now," Vex said, not taking her eyes off the street. She pointed to the right, where a sleek black luxury car sat parked near the curb. "See that car? Since we've been here, it hasn't moved an inch. Meaning it belongs to someone *here*." She tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully. "And people who own cars like that don't hang around Vietnamese grocery stores for three hours unless they're doing business."
"You don't think anyone nice can live here?" Sarah asked from the back seat, her tone carrying a hint of defensiveness.
Vex smirked. "You're right. Maybe they're just a really passionate phở enthusiast with terrible time management."
"I'm serious!" Sarah leaned forward between the front seats. "Not everyone with money is a criminal. Maybe they're visiting family, or they own the place, or—"
"Or they're running an illegal operation out of a grocery store," Vex interrupted, still watching the car. "Which is literally why we're here."
"You always assume the worst about people."
"It's called pattern recognition, Sarah."
"It's called cynicism."
Kínitos sighed, his stomach growling audibly. "Phở would be really good right now."
Both women ignored him, continuing their back-and-forth. Sarah crossed her arms. "I'm just saying, you can't judge people based on—"
A heavy truck rumbled down the street, its engine loud enough to cut through their argument. It pulled directly in front of the Vietnamese store, blocking their view. The back doors swung open, and several men hopped out—all wearing black masks and carrying duffel bags.
Kínitos sat up straight, suddenly very awake. "Y'all think that's suspicious?"
Vex's expression sharpened instantly. "Stay in the car. Both of you."
"Wait, what?" Sarah's voice rose. "You're going in alone?"
"I said stay." Vex was already out the door, moving low and fast across the street. She didn't look back.
Kínitos watched her disappear around the side of the building, then settled back into his seat. His fingers drummed against his thigh—0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8—a nervous rhythm.
Sarah leaned forward between the seats, eyes glued to the store entrance. "Should we… I don't know, be ready for something?"
"Ready how?" Kínitos muttered. "We barely know what we're doing."
"Exactly. That's why I'm asking."
The minutes crawled by. Kínitos counted them in his head, matching them to his sequence. The men who'd entered the store hadn't come back out. The truck sat there, engine idling, driver still behind the wheel.
Then—*crack crack crack*—three sharp gunshots echoed from inside the store.
Both of them flinched.
"Vex—" Sarah started.
The front door burst open. A man in an expensive business suit stumbled out, flanked by two bodyguards in dark jackets. The suited man's face was pale, his tie loose and askew. The bodyguards had their hands inside their coats—reaching for weapons, Kínitos realized.
They ran toward the black luxury car.
Sarah's hand shot to the door handle. "We need to—"
Kínitos's phone buzzed. He snatched it up.
**Vex:** *Stay in the car. I'll be out soon. Do NOT come in.*
"She's fine," Kínitos said, showing Sarah the screen. "She says stay put."
"But those guys—"
The truck driver's door flew open.
A man dropped out—stocky, masked, holding something long and dark. It took Kínitos half a second to register it.
An automatic rifle.
The driver raised it, aiming at the fleeing suited man and his guards.
*BRATATAT—*
The sound ripped through the street. Bullets tore into the pavement, sparking off metal. One of the bodyguards jerked backward, red blooming across his shoulder. The luxury car's windows exploded into glittering shards.
Sarah screamed.
Kínitos's hand was already on the door handle.
"Kínitos, wait—!"
He didn't wait.
He shoved the door open and rolled out onto the street, adrenaline flooding his system. His heart hammered in his chest—0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8—as he ducked low behind the open car door.
The gunman swung toward him.
Their eyes met through the mask.
And Kínitos realized he had absolutely no plan.
A voice echoed in his head—calm, certain, *his* but not his.
*You're okay. You're unstoppable.*
Purple energy erupted across Kínitos's body like wildfire, crackling and bright. It didn't burn—it *sank*, seeping into his skin, his muscles, his bones. He felt it in his chest, in his fists, in every nerve ending.
The gunman's finger tightened on the trigger.
Kínitos threw a punch at the rifle.
His fist went *through* it.
The metal didn't bend—it *shattered*, exploding into dozens of jagged pieces that clattered across the pavement like broken glass. The gunman stumbled backward, eyes wide behind his mask, the remains of his weapon still clutched uselessly in his hands.
"What the—*what the fuck*—"
The purple energy faded as quickly as it came, wisping away like smoke. But Kínitos didn't stop. His body moved on instinct, his arm already cocking back for another strike.
He drove his fist into the man's stomach.
The impact folded the gunman in half. He crumpled to the ground, gasping, unconscious before he even hit the pavement.
Kínitos stood there, breathing hard, staring at his trembling hand. No cuts. No bruises. Just the faint tingle of energy still buzzing under his skin.
Behind him, tires screeched.
The luxury car peeled out, the suited man and his remaining bodyguard barely inside before it fishtailed down the street and vanished around a corner.
Sarah's voice cut through the ringing in his ears. "Kínitos—*what was that?!*"
He turned. She was halfway out of the car, face pale, eyes locked on him.
"I…" He looked down at his hand again, then at the shattered rifle pieces scattered around the unconscious gunman. "I don't know."