The night over Sacramento was restless. Clouds rolled in low and heavy, cutting the moon into jagged halves.
Downtown pulsed with none, sirens, and the steady heartbeat of a city that never slept.
On the edge of it all, a warehouse stood abandoned. Or so it seemed.
Inside , half a dozen men huddled around crates of stolen tech, their laughter bouncing off rusted beams. Gang insignias spray painted the walls. Their voices reeked of arrogance - the kind born of thinking no one was watching. They were wrong.
The steel roof groaned. Then, a sound like thunder tearing fabric.
One of the men looked up, half drunk, squinting. " What the hell...? "
The roof caved inward as a figure dropped from the sky, landing with a shockwave that sent crates tumbling like dice. Dust and sparks choked the air.
When it cleared, he stood there. Harbinger.
Seven feet of cold perfection. His skin shimmered faintly with that strange circuitry glow, his eyes burning with unnatural blue fire. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. The men froze. Weapons came up, hands trembling. "Shoot him!" one yelled
Bullets spat fire. They tore into Harbinger's chest - and flattened harmlessly against his skin before falling like pebbles. His gaze never wavered. Then he moved.
It was not a fight. It was slaughter dressed as ballet. One man swung a crowbar, Harbinger caught it with two fingers, crushed the steel to powder, and sent the thug flying across the room with a single backkhand. Another rushed with a knife. Harbinger tilted his head. Interesting.
Before the pin could leave the chamber, Harbinger was already there, hand clamping around the man's skull. Energy rippled from his palm, a sound like high voltage wires frying. The grenade never exploded. The man did.
The rest fled, scrambling for doors and windows. Harbinger raised one hand. Energy arced outward in a wave of blue light, shattered glass, melting locks, and frying every electronic device within a hundred yards.
The men dropped to the ground screaming, convulsing, their bodies twitching as their nervous systems short circuited. Silence followed. Only the faint buzz of his inner circuitry remained.
Far above, from the safety of a drone feed, Dr Cross observed. Her lips curled upward, eyes bright with a satisfaction that bordered on worship. "Yes," she whispered. " Perfect."
Behind her, board members shifted uncomfortably. One muttered, " This...this isn't control. This is chaos."
Cross didn't turn. " This is inevitability. Yu don't teach the wolf to fetch. You let it hunt."
On her monitor, harbinger stood amidst ruin, surrounded by bodies twitching in unconscious heaps. He looked up suddenly, straight into the drone camera, as if he knew she was watching.Then he smiled.
Miles away, Zeke bolted upright in bed, his chest tight, sparks firing wildly from his hands. He gasped like someone had just punched the air out of his lungs.
"Zeke?" Maya sat up, alarmed.
He clutched his chest. " he's here," he whispered, his voice hoarse." I can feel him."
Maya's eyes widened, " who?"
Zeke swallowed hard. The name came out broken, like the word itself burned his throat. " Harbinger"
Back in the warehouse, harbinger turned slowly, stepping through the smoke and ruin until he reached the main wall. He lifted one glowing finger and dragged it across the concrete.
The energy seared words into the walls, letters burning bright before cooling into black scorch marks: PATIENT ZERO