Chapter 3: Shattered Glass
The world had finally begun to feel real again.
Weeks turned into months, and Adrian—both the boy and the soul that now wore his face—settled into a rhythm. Morning hugs from Maria. Lab sessions with Tony. The occasional gruff approval from Howard. It wasn't perfect, but it was alive. For the first time in two lives, he felt like he belonged.
That made the end hurt even more.
---
The day of the gala was clear and sharp, the kind of New York afternoon that shimmered with the false promise of spring. Tony had begged out of the event—"Corporate schmoozing isn't my thing, I'm a lab guy!"—and Adrian had privately wished he could do the same. But Howard insisted. It was a charity function, and Stark Industries had a reputation to uphold.
So they went.
The ride was smooth at first. The sleek black Audi R8, a signature Stark Industries vehicle, glided through traffic, its tinted windows dulling the buzz of the city. Adrian sat beside Maria in the back seat, watching buildings blur past. Howard sat in the front passenger seat, tapping notes into his tablet. Their driver, Rhodes—a former military man with eyes like stone—navigated with ease.
Adrian should've noticed.
The extra car trailing too close.
The subtle detour taken by traffic control.
The static in the comms line.
But he didn't.
He was laughing at something Maria said when the world shattered.
---
Gunfire.
Loud. Immediate. Like thunder with teeth.
The front windshield exploded inward, showering Howard and the driver with glass. The car jolted violently, tires screeching as Rhodes tried to swerve them out of harm's way. Bullets ricocheted off the reinforced doors—pinging metal, whistling death.
Howard shouted something. Maria screamed.
Adrian froze.
The noise was overwhelming—automatic rifles peppering the car from both sides. The side windows fractured like spiderwebs under pressure, only the reinforced polymer keeping them from bursting.
The tires blew.
Rubber shredded into black streamers as the front left tire detonated from a high-caliber round. The vehicle lurched violently to the right, skidding across the wet asphalt. Sparks burst from underneath as the car clipped a median, scraping its armored belly against the curb.
The vehicle spun.
One full rotation. Two. The world outside became a blur of trees, lights, and metal. Adrian's head snapped against the seatbelt as gravity wrenched him sideways. Maria's arm locked around his chest instinctively, trying to shield him from the chaos.
They slammed into the guardrail.
Metal shrieked—a scream that tore into the night. The right side of the vehicle caved inward. Shards of glass flew like razors. The front end buckled under the impact, one of the wheels crumpling into the frame.
The car rocked once. Teetered.
Then stopped.
When the car finally stopped, it was angled halfway over the embankment, one rear wheel spinning uselessly in the air. Smoke filled the cabin. Somewhere, someone moaned in pain.
Maria's head lolled, her hand gripping Adrian's sleeve.
Then the door was wrenched open.
Adrian turned—just in time to see a masked figure raise a rifle.
There was a flash.
Then darkness.
---
He awoke to silence.
Cold air against his skin. The smell of antiseptic. A harsh buzzing overhead. His head pulsed with pain, the back of his skull tender and damp.
He was lying on something hard—metal, not fabric. His arms were bound at the wrists with cold restraints. He tried to move. Failed.
Then he remembered.
The gunfire.
The crash.
His mother's face.
A scream caught in his throat, but came out as a choked breath.
He wasn't in a hospital.
He was somewhere else.
Somewhere wrong.
—
End of Chapter 3