The flashing lights came before the sirens.
Three police cruisers pulled up outside the hospital—two marked, one unmarked. Doors opened. Officers stepped out, hands resting near holsters, scanning the perimeter.
Inside, the receptionist looked up from her desk as two of them entered—serious, focused, not frantic. Their approach was controlled. Professional. Trained.
Behind them, a detective in plain clothes followed—tall, broad-shouldered, and tired-eyed, with a leather notebook already in hand.
"Officer Ramirez, Metro PD," said the first officer at the desk. "We're here about a shooting reported less than an hour ago. Multiple witnesses say it happened near Belmont and Westbridge."
The receptionist blinked, hesitated. "You mean the boy who was brought in…?"
"That's the one. Male teen. African descent. They say he—" he checked his notes, face tightening. "—picked up a manhole cover and flipped a car. After getting shot."
The detective stepped forward, voice lower. "Ma'am. There's at least seven different videos circulating already. Bystanders. TikTok. A security camera from a deli across the street. And they all show the same thing: a teenage boy getting shot… and walking away."
---
Upstairs, a nurse knocked softly on the trauma room door.
Lyriana turned before the knock finished.
"They're here," the nurse whispered.
Lyriana sighed, brushing her fingers once through her hair.
Valerius, still laying on his stomach, glanced back over his shoulder. "Figures. They'd come."
Eryndor stepped toward the doorway. "Shall I go speak with them?"
"No," Lyriana said.
She stood to her full height—ducking slightly under the frame—and walked toward the door.
---
Downstairs, the detective was mid-conversation with a hospital admin when the elevator dinged.
Everyone turned.
Lyriana stepped out slowly, her heels clicking once on the tile before falling into silence again. She had changed nothing. Dark coat flowing, eyes scanning the room.
The detective blinked. "...She's real."
One of the officers actually took a step back.
Lyriana's voice was clear. Measured. Cold.
"I heard you're looking for someone."
The detective straightened, recovering quickly. "We're investigating a public shooting that took place less than an hour ago. Several eyewitnesses reported seeing… unusual activity. Including a car being flipped. And a minor being injured."
His eyes narrowed. "We'd like to speak to the victim. And anyone connected to the incident."
"You'll speak to me."
"Are you his legal guardian?"
"I'm his mother."
The detective gave a slight nod. "Then I have questions."
"You may ask them here. You will not interrogate my son. He is underage, sedated, and recovering."
"That's not standard—"
"I am not standard."
The officer beside him leaned in. "Sir, we have seven separate eyewitness accounts saying this kid picked up a solid cast-iron cover and threw it like a frisbee. That's not possible."
Lyriana didn't blink. "Then clearly, your witnesses are mistaken."
"They're not. One of the shots hit the car's gas tank. The whole thing's being taped off."
"I'm aware."
"Then you understand why we're here."
"I understand," she said, stepping closer, towering over all of them, "that your job is to protect civilians. My son was one—until someone decided to open fire on him and a girl in the middle of a public street. Maybe ask yourself why that happened. Who sent them. And how they got away so fast."
The detective paused.
Then said, flatly:
"Ma'am… the shooters are dead."
Lyriana's head tilted slightly. "…What?"
Behind her, Carmen stiffened in her seat across the hall. She wasn't allowed into the trauma room, so she waited there—silent, still, eyes swollen from crying.
She'd seen the towering woman stride through the hospital like she owned it.
And now, she finally realized.
That giant… is Lerius's mother?
The detective took a slow breath and reached into his coat.
"It'd be easier if you just watched this."
He tapped his phone, turned the screen to face her.
A video played—shaky, taken from a phone by a bystander.
The screen showed a blur, a boy collapsing onto the ground after gunfire, shielding a girl. Screams followed. Chaos erupted. Then—
Valerius, still bleeding, still groaning—reached beside him.
His hand wrapped around a solid cast-iron manhole cover.
The camera jerked as someone screamed. Then it caught the moment:
He stood.
He turned.
And with one arm—
He threw it.
The disc spun like a missile. The video caught the sound: a dull, catastrophic impact.
The car flipped. Slammed. Rolled. Smoke billowed.
Then silence.
The girl filming dropped the phone.
The last frame showed people screaming, running.
And in the corner… a boy kneeling, blood down his back.
The video ended.
---
The detective pulled the phone away and locked the screen.
"We recovered three bodies from that wreckage," he said quietly. "Two in the car. One across the street, skull cracked. All armed. All confirmed ex-cons. Ties to an underground trafficking ring."
Lyriana didn't speak. Her expression was unreadable.
"But they're dead. Killed by blunt force trauma consistent with… well, that."
Another officer stepped closer. "We also have forensic evidence that proves the trajectory. The cover came from the sidewalk. It matches the one missing from the sewer line. There's no other explanation."
Lyriana's voice was calm.
"You're saying my son acted in self-defense."
The detective hesitated.
Then nodded. "…Yes. But self-defense that resulted in fatality."
She stared at him.
"So what does that mean? You plan to arrest him?"
Carmen's heart leapt in her chest.
The detective shook his head. "Not right now."
"But you intend to?" Lyriana said.
"We don't intend anything yet. But we have to follow procedure. Someone died. Three people, actually. That makes this a homicide case, regardless of circumstances."
"He's a child."
"He's fourteen. But if this escalates, the DA may argue exceptional circumstances."
"Exceptional?" Lyriana echoed, voice sharp.
"He threw a manhole cover like a discus and flipped a car," the detective said flatly. "Do you know what kind of force that requires?"
"I do," she said, eyes narrowing. "More than you can imagine."
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look—we're not monsters. The footage clearly shows he was defending the girl. But once lethal force is involved, there are protocols. And public attention."
He nodded to the hallway. "That video's already gone viral. Two hundred thousand views in thirty minutes. People are calling him a mutant. A superhuman. Others are saying it's a hoax. A deepfake."
"So…" Lyriana said, voice like steel, "your concern is not justice. It's exposure."
The detective looked up at her—tired, honest.
"…Both."
---
At that moment, another officer returned from a call.
He leaned in, whispered something into the detective's ear.
The detective turned back to Lyriana. "We've been ordered to bring him in for questioning within 48 hours."
"He's still healing."
"Then we'll wait. But he needs to appear—voluntarily or not."
He handed her a card. "Here. My direct line. If he's not well enough, I'll buy him time. But if he runs, they'll put out a warrant."
Lyriana took the card with two fingers.
"You'll get your meeting," she said. "But only with me present. And if any government official attempts to restrain him…"
She leaned in—just slightly.
"You'll be calling more than one ambulance."
The detective held her gaze. "Understood."
He turned to leave, but Carmen rose suddenly.
"Wait—wait! I need to see him. Please—can I see him now?"
The detective looked at her, surprised.
Lyriana glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze softened—just a little.
"…Did you really think I wouldn't know about you two?.
Lyriana's voice was low, commanding.
"Sit down. And wait."
Carmen obeyed without thinking, settling into the nearest chair, heart pounding.
Lyriana raised her hand—palm open—and a white shimmer of light bloomed above it. A holographic head appeared, hovering in the air like a ghost carved from crystal. Male in shape, but unmistakably artificial.
Its glowing eyes blinked slowly.
Lyriana spoke with chilling calm.
"Padro. Go online. Remove every video of Valerius I wouldn't approve of. Search this entire city. Enter every device. Every cloud backup. Every file. Make it so those videos and pictures never existed."
The voice that replied was cold and mechanical, with no emotion.
"Yes, Madam Delindor."
Carmen's eyes widened. Is that… a hologram?
Her mouth went dry as she stared at the floating head. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. High-tech didn't begin to describe it—this felt… otherworldly.
Seconds passed.
"It is done, Madam Delindor," Padro reported. "Every single video and image of Valerius's incident has been located, accessed, and permanently deleted from all networks, personal devices, and cloud storage."
Lyriana nodded. "Good. Valerius has drawn the attention of law enforcement. I can't allow that. Ready my jet. I'll be paying someone a visit."
"As you wish." The hologram flickered once, then vanished into thin air.
The room dimmed slightly in its absence.
Lyriana turned toward Carmen.
"Come on."
Carmen rose immediately, wiping her palms on her jeans. She didn't know where they were going, but she followed.
The hallway felt longer than before.
They reached Trauma Room 3.
Valerius was still lying on his stomach, bandaged and quiet. His family stood nearby—tall, powerful, strange. Carmen hesitated, suddenly aware of the sheer difference between her and them.
Ziraiah looked up first.
"Who's that?"
Lyriana crossed her arms.
"This… is Val's little secret."
She glanced toward her son. "Isn't it, Valerius?"
Valerius groaned and turned his face away, burying it into the pillow.
Ziraiah raised a brow. "Secret?"
Then it clicked. Her eyes widened.
"…Ooooooh."
Carmen stepped closer, her throat tight with guilt. She looked at Valerius—broken and stitched up because of her.
Tears brimmed in her eyes.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "You were shot because of me. This is all my fault."
Daniel, who had been quiet until now, turned sharply.
"What?"
His voice cut the room like a blade.
Valerius still didn't look up.
The tension hung thick.
No one moved.
This memory came to an end.
---
The cannibal man slowly raised his head, strands of flesh hanging from his lips. He licked the blood from his teeth, then wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist, smearing crimson across his cracked skin.
He exhaled, satisfied. "Your life is quite entertaining," he rasped, voice thick with amusement. "For so many years, I've eaten in silence… almost killed by boredom."
He leaned down again and sank his teeth into Valerius's shoulder once more.
Flash.
The taste opened the gates.
A cascade of memories flooded through him—bright and vivid.
Valerius in a classroom, half-asleep during a test.
Valerius running through woods with Eryndor, laughter echoing between the trees.
Valerius in mid-air, fist cocked back.
Smash—Eryndor threw him through three walls in quick succession.
Bite—Valerius sank his teeth into Eryndor's forearm, wild and grinning.
The cannibal paused. "Oooh," he whispered, eyes gleaming. "Something interesting."
He focused. The images obeyed.
The memory rewound like smoke curling backward—walls rebuilding, clothes unrumpling, time reversing its course.
Back to where it began.
---
The scene settled. Night. Eight months ago.
Earth.
Inside a massive suburban house—gleaming floors, marble counters, and spilled soda.
Valerius's house.
The place was a disaster.
Loud music blasted through the living room. People danced in the hallway, made out under staircases, knocked over bowls of chips and didn't care. Lights flickered. Someone had drawn on the walls. It was chaos.
And in the middle of it all?
Valerius.
Fourteen years old. Shirt off. Standing on the kitchen table, doing some kind of ridiculous victory dance with a half-eaten sandwich in one hand.
He laughed wildly, spun, and almost tripped on a bottle.
The crowd cheered.
He was surrounded by older students—seniors he'd somehow convinced to come. Boys twice his age. Girls too pretty and far too drunk.
Valerius had invited everyone.
His voice rang out across the kitchen. "I said bring the speakers in here! The bass isn't slapping hard enough!"
Carmen, in a short red hoodie, danced beside the kitchen sink, laughing uncontrollably as Val nearly fell off the table for the third time. She grabbed his leg. "Get down, idiot, before you break your neck!"
Valerius laughed. "What neck? I'm immortal!"
Someone was throwing popcorn at a ceiling fan just to see where it'd land. A guy had passed out on the staircase. Another was filming Valerius with his phone.
And then…
A voice cut through the madness like a blade.
"You reprobate."
Everything stopped.
Heads turned.
Carmen froze.
Valerius blinked.
To be continued...