Kevin had always liked this place.
It wasn't just the food — though the chef's golden croissants were rumored to be addictive — it was the calm. The restaurant, Azure Leaf, stood at the corner of 5th and Kingsdale, overlooking the subway entrance like a glass palace. Inside, polished floors gleamed under soft lights, and the walls glowed faintly with digital art that shimmered like moving water.
Emily's eyes widened as they walked through the glass doors. "You eat here?"
Kevin grinned, pushing his hands into his jacket pockets. "Yeah, once in a while. They make the best grilled salmon in the city."
"I've walked past this place so many times," she said, taking it all in. "I didn't even think students were allowed inside."
"Guess they make an exception for billionaires' kids," he teased.
She rolled her eyes but smiled — the kind of smile that reached her eyes and made Kevin's chest tighten slightly. The waiter, dressed in white and silver, approached and bowed slightly.
"Welcome, Mr. Cray. The usual table?"
Emily blinked. "They know you?"
Kevin shrugged, pretending to look modest. "Maybe a little."
They were led to a quiet corner beside the window. From there, the city stretched out like a living mural — cars moving like veins of light, the subway entrance across the street alive with people coming and going.
"Wow," Emily whispered, running her fingers along the smooth edge of the table. "So this is what rich people breakfast looks like."
"Lunch," Kevin corrected playfully. "And I'm not that rich."
"You're literally the son of Chris Cray."
"Fair point," he said, laughing softly.
When the waiter returned, Emily ordered with surprising confidence — "Steak au poivre, medium rare. And lemon tea, please."
Kevin raised a brow. "You've been here before?"
"Once," she said, eyes twinkling. "During a national science trip. The mayor took us to a fancy dinner. I remember that meal. Tasted like victory."
He smiled. "I'll take the same."
The waiter nodded and left. Kevin leaned back, studying her. There was something different about Emily today — less guarded, more… open. Maybe it was the sunlight catching her hair, or the reflection of the city in her eyes.
"You're quiet," she said.
"Just thinking."
"About what?"
"About how you manage to make this whole city seem less… noisy."
Emily laughed softly, shaking her head. "You're smooth, Kevin."
"Maybe a little."
For a moment, there was only the sound of soft jazz playing from hidden speakers. The world outside felt far away.
Then came the boom.
It wasn't loud at first — more like a deep rumble from beneath the earth. The glass in the windows trembled. Then a second explosion tore through the air, this time sharper, closer.
The ground shook. The people screamed.
Kevin turned toward the window just as a cloud of black smoke billowed out from the subway entrance across the street. Car alarms went off, people ran, and a wave of panic swept through the restaurant.
"Everyone, please remain calm!" one of the staff yelled — but nobody listened. Chairs fell, dishes shattered, and someone screamed that it was a bomb.
Emily clutched the edge of the table. "Kevin—what's happening?"
"Stay here," he said, standing.
"What? No! Where are you going?"
He looked toward the smoke again, heart racing. He could see figures — men in suits — dragging something heavy through the subway tunnel entrance. No heroes. No sirens. Just chaos.
"I'll be right back," he said, his tone firm but calm.
Emily grabbed his arm. "Kevin, you can't—"
"I have to."
Her eyes were wide, frightened. "You're not one of them. You're not trained for this."
He smiled.
Before she could say another word, he turned and ran.
---
The street was filled with dust and shouting. Kevin covered his nose and moved through the crowd, slipping past a flipped-over taxi and a smoking streetlamp. The entrance to the subway was cracked open, debris everywhere.
He descended into the tunnel.
It was quiet — unnaturally so. The deeper he went, the stronger the smell of smoke and metal became.
Then he saw them.
Seven men in black tactical suits stood in the half-lit tunnel. They surrounded a metal briefcase that emitted a faint green glow. One of them noticed Kevin instantly.
"Who the hell—?"
Kevin raised his hands. "Hey—easy. I just wanted to make sure everyone's okay down here."
"Get out," one barked, aiming a gun. "Now."
Kevin stayed still. "What's in the case?"
"None of your business."
Something in Kevin's gut twisted. He'd seen weapons before — he knew what organized theft looked like. This wasn't random.
"Look," he said calmly, "you set off an explosion in the middle of the city. The police will—"
"Shut up!" another yelled and fired.
The bullet never reached him.
Kevin moved — instinctively, faster than his mind could process — ducking as the shot cracked the wall beside him. He blinked. His pulse spiked.
He hadn't meant to move like that.
The man with the gun hesitated. "You saw that?"
Another cursed. "He's one of them! A freak!"
Kevin's eyes flickered blue — faint, almost invisible — but enough to send a ripple of unease through the group.
"Last chance," Kevin said, his voice lower now. "Drop the case and walk away."
The leader smirked. "Or what?"
Kevin clenched his jaw. "Or I make you."
The next shot rang out. Kevin sidestepped — faster, smoother — and slammed his palm into the shooter's chest, sending him crashing into a pillar. The others opened fire.
Bullets sparked off the concrete as Kevin ducked, spun, and moved like liquid reflex. He wasn't invincible — a few grazed his sleeve — but he was faster than he'd ever been before.
Two men went down. Three more surrounded him.
"Who is this guy?!"
Before anyone could answer, one of them hefted a large, gunmetal cannon — humming with unstable radiation.
Kevin froze.
The man fired.
A blinding flash filled the tunnel, throwing Kevin backward into the wall. His body ached. Smoke curled from his jacket. But he was still standing.
"Reload it!" someone shouted.
The radiation gun clicked, recharging. Kevin's breathing grew heavy, anger flashing behind his eyes.
"No more warnings," he muttered.
And then he moved.
The next few seconds were a blur — a storm of motion. Kevin dashed forward, fists flying, knocking two men out cold before they even hit the ground. The one reloading the cannon fumbled, terrified.
"Too slow," Kevin said, grabbing the weapon's barrel.
The man panicked and fired anyway.
The explosion that followed shook the tunnel. The gun shattered. The briefcase hit the ground — its locks bursting open.
A small containment pod rolled out, cracked, and split.
Inside was a glass capsule — and within it, a spider.
Black and silver, with veins of glowing blue pulsing through its body.
The spider twitched. Then it moved.
Kevin coughed, disoriented. Smoke filled the tunnel again. All seven men were down, unconscious. He stumbled forward, brushing dust off his shoulder, when he heard a voice.
"Kevin!"
He turned — Emily was standing at the tunnel entrance, eyes wide, trembling.
"What the hell happened here?"
He looked around — bodies, smoke, the shattered gun. "Long story. We have to go before the cops show up."
"Did you… did you do this?" she asked, half in awe, half in fear.
Kevin hesitated. "Emily, I'll explain later. Right now we need to—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Something crawled beneath his collar.
"Wait—what the—"
Before he could react, a sharp sting pierced the side of his neck.
"AHH!"
He slapped his neck instinctively — crushing the spider — but the venom was already burning under his skin. His vision blurred.
"Kevin!" Emily shouted, catching him as he staggered.
"I'm… fine," he gasped. But his heartbeat felt wrong. Heavy. Electric.
"Come on," she said, throwing his arm over her shoulder. "We're getting out of here."
She led him up the steps, past the smoke, out into the chaos of sirens and flashing lights.
Kevin glanced back once — just long enough to see the last remnants of the shattered briefcase glowing faintly in the dark.
Whatever that spider was… it wasn't from this world.
And neither, anymore, was he.