Chapter 4: A Lovely Day
(1st Person: Zavier)
Help…
Help me!
What's happening?
Someone please…
All these voices in my head—they won't stop. They're shouting, overlapping, clawing at my skull. It's nothing but darkness around me. I see hands reaching out—dozens of them—crying out for help. I reach for them, desperate to pull someone, anyone to safety. But they pull back. Vanish into shadow.
NO!
Not you.
Anyone else, please!
Why? Take my hand! Let me help!
W-where were you?
You hurt me.
You failed me.
You didn't save me—you made it WORSE!
Wuh—what?
You weren't there for me!
You're not worthy.
You're not a hero. YOU'RE A MONSTER.
I fall to my knees. I can feel myself whimpering, gasping. My chest—it's caving in. Hell, the world is. I can't breathe. I feel something wrapped around my throat, crushing me. I want to fight it. I do. But I shouldn't. I deserve this.
The voices…they're right. I know what I've done. Middle school. Who I was. What I ignored. What I let happen. I can't forgive that. Can't forget it. Never. I'm not a hero. Alex… Temaria… Renee… Ele—...
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry…
I'm sorry…
I'm sor—...
I AM sorry—
"Well, well , well. Look who came back to see me."
This voice, cutting through the static. Colder. Clearer. Too familiar.
"Why are you still here?"
I freeze. It's not a victim's voice. Not a cry for help. It's mine. Distorted. Deeper. Wrong. I look up—and I see him. Me. But not me. A shadow version. Black eyes. Smiling with teeth too sharp. My demon. He crouches beside me, whispering.
"You know what you are. So why pretend?"
I shake my head, barely able to speak. "Go away…"
"No. I live here. Right here."
He presses a clawed hand to my chest.
"Where all that guilt sits and festers. You don't fight me. You feed me."
I can't move.
"You keep saying sorry. Like it matters. Like it fixes anything. But you know better."
He leans in closer.
"You're nothing, Zavier. A fraud. A coward. If you really believed you're the monster you say you are—then finish it. Jump. Cut. Sink."
"No…"
"SINK.
S I N K
S
I
N
K—"
Wait, there's a warmth surrounding me. Feels like it's holding me, laying on my chest. The darkness, it's receding. There's light coming back around me. It feels better. It feels warm. It feels…familiar… Oh. I know what this is. All of this…That warmth, it's Aiden. I'm so lucky to have him. I just… I just wish he didn't have to suffer with me.
The morning finally comes. I can feel the sunlight hitting my skin. I got my eyes to open a lil bit now. I can see Aiden laying on my chest. Hmm, it feels nice, though I can do without the drool. I'm surprised he still has any saliva left from last night. As we lay there, I stroked his head with one hand as I rubbed his back with the other. It's almost time to take Luna out, but I want this moment to breathe a bit longer. As it passed, I now had to take on the task of moving Aiden without waking him. I'm trying to wiggle myself a little bit out of his beautiful clutches and using my force fields to put them whatever body part he was touching. My plan is almost successful. I just need to maneuver myself a little bit more and-
"Babe, wait another minute please."
Damn! My stealth didn't work this time.
"Wait, what about Luna?" Aiden just grumbles at me, barely awake but has enough strength to keep up his cute ass brat behavior.
"Nooo. Let me have this."
"Woooow, so Luna and her bladder don't mean anything to you?"
"Look, if her bladder fails and kills her, we'll get another dog. This time I want a Great Dane."
…What…I…I'm gagged.
"Damn. I can't believe you. She's our baby."
Aiden lifts his head up to look me in my eye. With some form of boldness in his eyes since he's still fighting sleep and the eye crust boogers on his face, this is what he said.
"Fuck that bitch. I want another minute with my man." …I'm shocked…I'm appalled…I'm…I'm rubbing off too much on Aiden cuz that's some shit I would say. For jokes by the way.
"Wow, ok. Fine. One more minute and then you gotta get up. Please?"
His sleepy, eye booger crusted face just rolls his eyes at me before he gives me an answer.
"Fine. Now give me my minute, damn it."
"Hmm, ok."
He lays his head back down onto my chest while making a child-like glee noise as I hold him tighter for another heavenly minute.
After that minute goes by, I was finally able to get up and take Luna without Aiden putting up another fight to keep me in bed. After I got Luna & Joy situated, I freshened up to get ready for the day. I got a lot of time to chill before I head out to do local Apostle stuff today. At the level I'm at, I don't really have to do local stuff. I'm supposed to stay and chill wherever I am unless something serious on a city level at least happens like someone going around blowing shit up or some major scandal, but the small stuff matters too. It's good on-the-job training for Darius and it keeps us involved in what's going on around us in our local communities. Whether it be a purse snatching, domestic disputes, searching for missing everyday people, ect. It might not be a large-scale drug deal or a mass attack, but these small scale events ruin a lot of people's world. Big crimes like Orion don't matter to the everyday person struggling to pay a bill and they fell for a scam or someone took their car and their insurance won't work with them.
Fresh out of the shower with some new clothes to put on, I decide to whip up some breakfast for both of us. Now I'm nowhere near as skilled as Aiden, but I can do small stuff, especially if all I have to do is turn stuff on and check it every other minute. I whipped up some scrambled eggs, sausages, cooked up some rice in the rice cooker, baked some Sister Schuster pan rolls, made some waffles from the waffle maker. With everything ready, I made a plate for Aiden before I got one myself. While I wait for him, I'm in the mood to watch some Ed, Edd, & Eddy while I enjoy my breakfast like the 90's child I am.
While I'm watching Rolf beat the brakes off of Eddy with some raw fish, I can hear my bae getting up and getting ready, tho I can tell he's not moving as quickly as he usually does. He usually has quite a pep in his step but…nights like last night (excluding the fun stuff) tend to… take that from him. It doesn't last long but it bothers me cuz those nightmares I get tend to bother him and he comforts me to help me deal with it. Thing is…he doesn't know that I'm aware when he does it and we've never really talked about cuz he thinks I don't know what those nightmares do to me when I'm sleeping. She came out in my Straw Hat pirates hoodie.
"Good morning, thief. I got food ready for both of us to enjoy."
He scoffs at me for the thief comment, but goes to grab his plate and eat it and enjoy the show with me. We settle in, both of us cross-legged on the couch, plates in hand, the scent of sausage and fresh waffles thick in the air. Rolf's whooping Eddy's ass with a slab of fish and Aiden's already mid-bite, cozy in my Straw Hat hoodie like it's his now. It's peaceful. Too peaceful, honestly.
I figure I might as well say something before the quiet turns heavy.
"So… we might be heading out of the country soon. Somewhere in Africa, actually."
I don't look at him right away, just focus on my eggs, but I can feel his head turn.
"That for Apostle work?"
"Yeah. We're waiting for the official greenlight before we can go. It's a big one—its Orion."
He hums, setting his fork down.
"I see. Are you ok?"
I pause the TV.
"As I can be."
He doesn't push, but I can feel the weight in the air shift.
"Wanna tell me about it?"
That's when I finally meet his eyes. And just like that, I know we're not staying in the sitcom moment anymore.
"Yeah," I say quietly.
"Yeah, I think I need to."
I had to take a deep breath before I spoke. I let my plate rest on the arm of the couch, my appetite slowly dissolving with the weight of the conversation creeping in.
"Hopefully, we won't be gone for too long," I say, rubbing the back of my neck.
"I don't want you to worry about me for any longer than you already do."
He glances over at me, concern already rising behind his eyes.
"Babe, that will always be a thing," He tells me in a very lovely & soft tone.
"I love you and I know & understand everything this life we're in can do. I ain't going anywhere."
Hmm, words like that always bring me such a mix of warmth & concern. It's such a blessing to have him, but the burden of everything that comes with me is a lot. The nightmares I have. I know it wakes him up and he has to spend time comforting me instead of sleeping. We don't talk about it.
I found out about this after V-Day happened. Right when I had to be among the ones to face & help the public, my past came to light. A classmate from my middle school days, Temaria, shared that… hmm … that I was among the dirty & disgusting boys that couldn't keep his words or his hands to himself and how I shouldn't be trusted to help anyone. Add in Mr. & Ms. Lucas, parents to my…departed high school sweetheart Alexandra came out to back her up and say I was the reason Alex…took her own life. As untrustworthy and toxic that those 2 poor excuses of parents are, them &, more importantly, Temaria aren't wrong to hate me. I'm not who I was then but it was me and my past actions left wounds that don't heal easily no matter how sorry you are. Even if you changed.
Alex was the one to help me change my behavior and was the only one to really stand up to me and make me face my actions. She gave me grace & care when I didn't deserve it and what did she get in return? Alongside dealing with toxic parents that loved to argue, lie, and cheat on each other, but stay together because they believe they're supposed to stay together cuz marriage and high school bullying, now add in me not giving her real genuine love & care when she needed it most. Just empty words of pleasantries, thinking that's more than enough. When she tried to tell me why I wasn't helping, I got mad and yelled at her. The very next day…hmm..became my canon event on why I have to give damn about another's pain and why I'm always thinking about the next word that comes out of my mouth. Her life shouldn't have to be the reason I understand why you say what you mean and you mean what you say ... .but she is.
Even after all that, I still found a way to not see someone I cared about was in pain and calling out for help. Right as soon as I got my powers, it was the same time I had to find out that not only Renee had powers and it was making her act out of control, the reason why was because someone we trusted… someone I called friend… was violating her for years. I…I don't care how well she hid her pain…. I should've seen it way before I found out the way I did. All those years she suffered… and I just ignored it
All of this was the reason for my nightmares. From what Aiden told the others, I didn't have them alot, but often enough to be a problem and everything that came with being a variant and in the public eye has made it happen more and more. Ever since I heard him talk about it, I try to do what I can to change my mood by the end of the night. Sometimes it works, sometimes not so much. I thought I had a handle on it. I guess Orion and Grant kinda got to me. Wait. I shouldn't get so lost in thought, I can't let Aiden see this. Not so early in the morning. I can see him getting more worried about me. Say something…
"It's Orion again," I add.
"They're resurfacing stronger than ever. This new mission…it's big. Multi-national. We've been prepping for a while, and now it's almost go time."
I can feel the air shift. His fork is down. TV's paused. That quiet between us—it ain't uncomfortable. It's just full of things I haven't said yet.
He doesn't ask for details. Not right away. Just watches me like he's trying to read what I'm not saying out loud.
"You okay?" he finally asks.
I hesitate. Not because I don't trust him. Just because there's too much. Too many layers. And one of them's a scar I'm not ready to peel back. He already knows about them anyway. I can't keep dumping all this on him. I'll just focus on the mission stuff.
"You know I've dealt with Orion before," I say.
"Too closely. Too personally. Every time they show up, it drags something out of me I keep trying to bury."
Aiden doesn't push. He just places his hand over mine, grounding me like he always does.
I force a smile, not for show, just for him.
"I'll be alright. We got a good team. We'll beat them. I just… wanted you to know before any shit pops off."
He squeezes my hand gently.
"You don't have to do all of this alone, you know?"
I nod, because I know he's right. But knowing something and feeling it? That's always been the gap I struggle to close. I grabbed Aiden's hand and looked into his eyes, letting him know that I'm feeling better and that his presence is helping me.
"I do. I appreciate you, Aiden."
We spent that moment getting lost into each other's eyes. It feels like nothing else matters but us. As lovely as it is, can't sit here forever in bliss.
"Hey. Do you mind if we cuddle for the next hour?"
Aiden giggles and looks away from me for a moment and then meets my eyes again with a smile, flipping up his cute bed hair.
"Of course, babe."
As the hour of bliss passes by, we both have to go get ready for the day. I got my gear ready and suited up. After one more goodbye kiss from Aiden, I headed out the door to fly to a police precinct in downtown Salt Lake. I'm meeting Darius there so we can start our local patrol. As I arrived at the building, I'm greeted by most of the officers in the parking lot. Some could care less that I just flewed in cuz at this point flying shouldn't shock anyone. Flying in, I saw Darius's car in the parking lot. I touched down by his car to say hi and to help ease his anxiety. As you can understand, him being black and ex-con AND being a variant in the Apostles but still having to interact with a police force that doesn't look like him, he doesn't feel all that welcomed here.
"Hey, D."
He rolls down his car window to dap me up.
"How you feeling?"
He looks around with clear nervousness in his eyes and overall demeanor. He lets out a sigh as he brings his shoulders down.
"I'm aight. Just a lil shook."
I can see him staring at some of the officers that's looking back at us. Some of those looks definitely don't feel welcoming, but I can tell you now, they won't do anything. Especially not with me around. Whether they want to admit it or not, they're lucky to have us to help and most of them ain't touching me in regards to overall power. Even still, as uncomfortable this can get, knowing full well how this system can fail everyone, especially those with mine's & Darius's skin color, the best change comes from inside and I'm proud to say that I've gotten some of those 'bad apples' exposed and disposed off (by that I mean arrested, not killed in case you thought that). That doesn't mean their friends don't like it but I would like to see them try me.
I turn to Darius and place my hand on his shoulders to help calm him.
"Hey. Don't let them stop your grind. You're constantly getting better & better each day. Don't let them trick you out your spot."
I see his shoulder release a little tension, letting out a sigh of relief. He brings his fist to me and we fist bump.
"Aight, Z. Let's go."
As Darius steps out of his car, we head inside the precinct to find Police Chief Wilson to check in before we start. Chief Wilson is kinda a hard ass like Grant except that I actually respect him and we can work together respectfully despite our differences.
Chief Wilson welcomes us into his office while he's knee deep in paperwork.
"Good Morning, Zavier & Darius. No Nate & Renee today?"
Oh yeah. I forgot they weren't here with us.
"They got time off today."
Wilson just chuckles as he juggles all the paperwork at his disposal.
" Hm, they're the lucky ones. Anyways, nothing major for you 2 today. Start with traffic today. Some areas have been a problem due to construction. Afterwards just lookout for the downtown area and you're good. Start by the courthouse area."
"Alright. 'Preciate it, Chief. Let's go, Darius."
On our way out of the building, we were dapping up a few of the officers that we were cool with until I saw Darius stiffen up.
"Hey," I said to him softly.
"What's up? Something bothering you?"
He turned his head slightly towards me.
"Mane, it's ol' boy over there."
I looked up and turned to the right and I saw what irked him and well it irks me too. Officer Rourke. Veteran cop. Square jaw. Scowl carved into his face like it was permanent. Also, just a straight douchebag who can't keep his opinions to himself.
"Morning, boys," he said, walking up to us while sipping from a thermos like he wasn't oozing slime.
"Didn't know parolees got Apostle gear now."
Darius didn't flinch. I watched his jaw flex, but he stayed silent. I stepped in.
"He's not a parolee. He's a registered Apostle."
Rourke raised an eyebrow.
"Huh. Guess standards are lower than they used to be."
I felt my chi twitch in my fingertips. Darius spoke calmly.
"Just trying to do my job, sir."
"Oh, that's what we're calling it now?" Rourke asked, voice casual but full of bite.
"Gotta say, I'm all for rehabilitation, but putting ex-gangbangers in uniforms seems like a recipe for disaster."
I stepped between them.
"Aye, we done here?"
He stared at me—then gave a smug little shrug and walked off. Darius let out a slow breath.
"You good?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said. "This ain't new."
We're finally out and about in the city, Looking out over the traffic in the area. Not much happening today besides the usual bad drivers and having to stop people from getting ran over because they weren't paying attention. It was quiet, mostly.
"You ever notice," Darius said, leaning against a lamppost.
"No matter what city you're in, you can always tell who's about to do something stupid just by how they drive?"
I chuckled, arms crossed.
"Absolutely. It's always the ones weaving like they're playing Mario Kart, or braking for no reason in a straight line." Darius smirked.
"Or my personal favorite—the 'I'm too important for turn signals' crowd."
We shared a small laugh, just enough to ease the stiffness that had crept into the day. The light changed. A few impatient honks echoed from a cluster of compact cars squeezing through the intersection before the yellow even blinked red. I lifted an eyebrow.
"Bet you anything," I said.
"White Corolla's gonna cause a wreck within the hour."
Darius followed my gaze.
"Easy money."
There was something peaceful about this—the monotony. The normalcy.
For all the chaos we usually dealt with, sometimes being an Apostle meant being present more than it meant being powerful.
"Days like this..." Darius started, hands in his pockets.
"It almost feels like we're regular people. Like none of the variant stuff ever happened."
I nodded slowly, watching a mother wrangle her toddler into a crosswalk stroller.
"Yeah. Almost."
He turned toward me, a shadow of something heavier behind his casual smile.
"You ever wonder... what you'd be doing if V-Day never happened?"
I thought about it for a second. Really thought about it.
"Probably still be coding," I said.
"As much as I liked the pay, I wasn't that great at it and it got boring. Granted, sometimes I miss boring."
Darius gave a low hum, thoughtful.
"Hmm, I get it."
"You?" He shrugged, smile tilting wryly.
"Probably dead."
I didn't laugh. Neither did he. Some truths are just… truths. Before I could say anything else, movement caught the corner of my eye. Across the street, by the TRAX stop, two guys were in each other's faces—hands waving, shoulders squared, tension in every line of their bodies. One had a hand tucked near his waistband—not enough to say weapon, but enough to say something's about to go down. I nodded toward the commotion.
"Break time's over." Darius cracked his knuckles.
"Let's go."
As we touch down in the area, I can clearly make out who we need to settle down. 2 variants. Ones a large, tall, burly dude with panda features. Thick, black & white fur with dark circle patches over his eyes, dark black nose, palms almost look like paws with claws (retractable from the way their shaped), and his ears are bigger & rounder and dark black colored. The other variant is an Asian kid, high teens or early 20's looking, curly hair down to his shoulders. He's draped in a red University Of Utah letterman jacket, a white tee, white & black sweatpants and white J's. I can see what looks like a yellow light radiating from his hands, so he's probably an energy based Variant. He looks like he's ready to blast the other variant but we'll put a stop to that.
"Unless you want to go from panda to a black bear," the college kid yells at the panda man as the light in his hands glows brighter.
"You better pipe down with all that growling, Po!"
"Try it and see if I don't rip your face off first!" The panda man snaps back as his claws come out.
The tension between them increases as they get closer and prepare to swing on each other.
"NOPE!"
My voice roared like thunder to everyone.
"That's enough! Break it up."
The crowd started to breakup and wait for whatever TRAX train they were waiting on while some got their phones out to record everything. The college boy starts to raise his hands like he's greeting someone at a party.
"Z-Force! My boy! Good to see ya. Please handle kung fu panda over here."
Me, Darius, & the panda man just looked at him like the idiot he is. I just shook my head, hoping it brings back some intelligence in this situation.
"First of all, stop with the name calling. 2, may I get your names?"
I turned to the panda man first. He was still growling at the college boy but slowly starts to end it as he turns to me, turning more into a low grumble.
"Malik Wong."
"Thank you." I said to Malik as I nod my head towards.
I turn my head to the college kid, hoping for the same respect.
"And you?"
The kid scoffs and smirks at me.
"Name's Jordan Kim—University of Utah, Energy Sciences program. But you probably already guessed that from the glow."
He holds up one of his still-sparking hands like it's a party trick that's not impressing anybody.
I gestured with my hand to tell to put his hand down
"Ok, stop please."
He looked like a scorned child being told no for the first time in his life.
"Oh. Ok."
He said with a tinge of hurt in his tone.
"T-too much?"
I'm doing the best I can without dropping my professionality to not roast this kid.
"Ok, please let me know what happened here. You first, M-"
"Thanks, so here's what happened…" Jordan just interrupts me to tell his narrative.
Probably should shut him up, but I'm very sure he'll incriminate himself. I gave a signal to Darius & Malik to let him speak.
"I was just chilling at this stop, waiting for the red train to take me back to the U. I was FaceTiming my friend to pass the time until Kung Fu Panda over here growled at me."
Malik started to growl again and snapped at Jordan.
"You liar! I didn't get mad out of nowhere! Tell the whole story!"
Jordan's hands starts to glow as he gets angry at being called out.
"Aye, FUCK YOU, YIN-YANG BEAR!"
And now they're back to try rolling up on each other again. Stuff like this is why I'm glad I have force field powers cuz it's not hard to hold these 2 back.
"Ok, stop that. Both of you."
It took a second, but I got them calmed.
"Alright. Malik, what is Jordan not telling us?"
Malik takes a moment to breathe and regain his composure.
"Hm. What he's leaving out is that he and his friend that he was FaceTiming were using me as the butt of their jokes and said them loud enough for everyone to hear."
As he spoke that sentence, Jordan loudly makes that 'tsk' sound with his tongue with an annoying eye roll to go with it. I turned back to Malik while keeping notes on Jordan's behavior.
"I was trying my best to not react but it got to me and I told him to stop."
"Oh shut up!" Jordan yells out.
"We didn't say shit about you! Quit lying!"
Malik growls again, responding back to him.
"So you didn't say 'What zoo let him out?'
Jordan scoffed.
"Man, you're being sensitive."
"No," Malik said.
"You were being a punk. I told y'all to stop. Politely, too. You laughed harder. Called me 'Po' and said you'd shave me like a dog." Jordan shrugged.
"It was a joke."
"TO WHO!?" Malik yelled, his claws twitching. Jordan starts to glow even brighter.
I restrained both of them even harder.
"Nuh uh. I told you both that this ain't happening."
Jordan looks at me with anger in his eyes. Even his eyes are glowing.
"SO YOU WANT TO PROTECT THIS FURRY LIAR!"
Malik starts to growl even louder, not letting what Jordan said stand.
"YOU'RE THE LIAR HERE!"
Hmm, now I got to get more aggressive with both of them.
"Aye! Both of you need to stop it before we sit you both down in a cell!"
"WAIT!" A lady's voice rang out, stopping everyone in their tracks.
As everyone calms down, we all turn to see a lady stepping up to end the chaos. She steps forward from the crowd like she didn't ask for the spotlight, but it followed her anyway. Olive scrubs under a long, beat-up cardigan, worn sneakers, and a tired look in her eyes — the kind you only get from holding too much in for too long. Her hair's tied up in a messy bun that probably started out neat this morning, and there's a fray on her sleeve she keeps fiddling with, like it keeps her steady.
There's something else, too — something in the way her eyes cut through the noise like glass. Sharp. Patient. And maybe if I wasn't trained to notice, I'd miss the way her fingers flex like they want to claw something. Or the faint twitch beneath her beanie that gives her ears away. She's a variant. An Ani-Variant specifically. She's gotten good at hiding it.
And yet, here she is. Stepping up, calm as stone, while everyone else just stood there with their phones out.
"I saw what happened."
"Ok, your name, mam?" I asked her.
"Clarisse."
"Ok. Can you verify what happened here?"
She shakes her head yes to answer me. She points her hand at Malik. So much fear showed on Malik's face. Scared like this whole situation will reveal something about him. Jordan's just smiling at his fear, like he's about to be validated. I looked back towards her as she continued to speak.
"This man here is in the right."
The expressions on both of their faces changed drastically. Malik just breathes a sigh of relief as he brings his head down while Jordan just looks so offended and disgusted.
"I heard all of the dumb zoo jokes while the other man was trying to be polite. He kept egging him on to no end."
"BITCH, PLEASE!" Jordan yells out.
I wrapped my force field restraints around him tightly.
"BRO, WHAT THE FUCK!?" I walked up to him, not bothered by his anger.
"Stop it, Jordan. You've done enough."
"WHAT?! YOU'LL JUST BELIEVE THIS FURRY LOVER OVER ME JUST LIKE THAT?!"
"You're validating every accusation with your behavior right now. Stop it before we will arrest you."
Jordan just keeps his disgust on his face as he turns to the lady that spoke up.
"BITCH, WHY DID YOU EVEN SAY ANYTHING?! IT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU!"
Eh. Those words are just poison. From looking at the lady, those words hit too close to home.
"Quiet, Jordan. You're in enough trouble as is."
Jordan just starts a growling-like yell like he's the animal. In my peripheral, I see the lady looking back at Jordan with some passion in her eyes, about to speak to him.
"I… I spoke up because…" She's scratching her arm nervously, trying to get the next word out.
"Hmm … because it's the right thing to do. Variants like him go through enough."
Jordan just rolls his eyes like what she said is an excuse he's heard too many times even though she's telling the truth, but clearly he ain't the type that cares about that when it invalidates his ego.
"Yo, GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY FACE WITH THAT BULLSHIT!"
He's glowing brighter & brighter, enough for others around us to shield their eyes. Yes, now he's going down. With a grip of my fist, the restraints that were already on him have him completely bounded.
"BRO, WHAT THE HELL?! WHY ARE YOU ONLY DOING THIS TO ME?! WHAT ABOUT HI-"
"HE isn't doing anything." I said, shutting him down.
"You're the only one here behaving like a wild animal. Now, we have to detain you."
Jordan sneered at me and started to look at me up & down like he's sizing me up.
"Man, who is you to talk to me like that? Some pervy nerd that couldn't pull no bitches in middle school flexing his powers on people. Man, FUCK YOU! "
The words came out hot, loud, and aimed straight at my chest like a punch. The crowd gasped, some letting out 'ooooooos'. Darius's whole body tensed next to me like a pressure cooker about to blow. But I didn't flinch. My grip stayed locked. My face didn't change. I leaned in just enough for Jordan to see the weight in my eyes—not rage, not ego. Something heavier.
"...You finished?" I asked quietly.
Jordan didn't answer. I spoke low but sharp—measured, so every word hit harder than a scream.
"I know who I was. I know what I did. And I've spent every year since then trying to be better, not just look better. That's what growing up is. That's what accountability looks like."
I stepped in a little closer—not threatening, just enough to make him listen.
"You keep acting like the problem is everybody else. It's not. It's you. You're the only one here throwing your powers around like they give you value. They don't. Your character does. And right now? You're just a disrespectful kid who thinks being loud is the same as being right."
Jordan's energy fizzled out in his palms. Not from understanding—just from embarrassment. His eyes darted to the crowd around him. Phones out. Eyebrows raised. Judging him. Not clapping. Not impressed.
"If you really want to walk the hero path," I continued.
"Follow in my footsteps. Learn from the dirt under my name. Own your shit. Cause right now, the only thing you're showing people… is that you haven't grown up yet."
Jordan didn't say anything. He started to power down, toning down the brightness, and looked away, his jaw tight with heat that wasn't power anymore. Jordan opened his mouth like he wanted to speak—but nothing came out and he just looked away again. Just shame. Quiet, sour shame.
I loosened my grip on Jordan as I got closer to him. He's trying hard to not look at me but he will.
"Look at me Jordan." He took a scornful child-like sigh before he turned to me.
"Jordan, I need you to-"
KZZRRAAK-BOOM!
Da hell was that? It sounded like lightning going off behind me. As bright as today is, I can see flashes of other lights bouncing off the buildings in front of me, shining & reflecting off the windows as well. People are screaming and cars are coming to a screeching halt. I quickly turned around to see what's happening and all I see is bolts of electricity flashing and erupting at an intersection. In the center of the intersection, I can see a man floating, surrounded by a ball of electricity. He looks scruffy and hairy, sort of emaciated. He's in the center of the ball, screaming, from how it sounds, in pain. His eyes were blown wide, jaw slack, skin blistering. His body sparked in pulses he couldn't control. And worse— A TRAX train from the North side was coming. Fast!
"Darius!" I shouted, already moving.
"Control the crowd! I'll get him!" "GOT IT!"
As Darius attended to the crowd as I launched forward with a boost from my field, slamming a simple barrier between the man and the oncoming train just in time. The driver slammed the brakes, screeching to a stop just a few feet from us. Hopefully the driver will send a message to the rest of the TRAX conductors to stop the service for now. Keeping my attention on the man, I'm trying to see what I can do for him with this cage of lightning surrounding and apparently spinning around him. I wrapped a field around the both of us, trying to contain the blast from everyone else. I can try to talk to him and see where that gets me.
"Sir! Try to calm down! Just breathe in & out and let it flow naturally!"
His body is beginning to twitch while being spun by the energy. I can see him trying to look at me but, at least from what I can guess, his powers are making it hard for him. Unfortunately, it's not uncommon for variants with electrical powers to have issues like this. A lot of them have dealt with seizures, malfunctioning nervous systems, epilepsy, ect. Wait. I think he's trying to speak.
"....I …I ….can't…..It….it ..hu…HURTS!"
Damn. I have to assume he didn't always have this power. Not my first time dealing with this but it won't be easy. 1st things 1st, I got to make him as comfortable as possible.
"No worries! Me & Darius will help you. Just try to stay calm."
Looking past the man, I can see Darius and a lot of police officers blocking off the area. Good. I can call him in.
"Hey, Darius!" I got his attention and I gestured to him to come into the bubble I made.
As he dashes towards us, I'm still trying to see what I can do for the man. I know I can try to make a vent to help safely discharge the energy, or even form a conduit with my force fields to direct the energy, but I can't stop him from generating the energy. Now Darius's absorption powers can help with that. While I'm trying to form a construct to help with the surging electricity, I can see the energy is tearing him up literally. Parts of his skin are getting burnt. It looks like pits of lightning are bursting out of him slowly. Jeez…I ..I think he's gonna blow.
Darius is almost near us. I connected the construct I made to the man's energy. From what I can feel, it's intense and erratic. I got some of it to bounce off and on to the construct, sending it straight up to be dispersed. As I expected, it's weakening the surge but it ain't stopping it.
"Z! I'm here." Darius yells out.
"Good. Think you can absorb what he's putting out?"
"Not sure, but I can try, though I don't know if I can try while it's surging like this."
I can see what it means. The electric cage is still spiking and swirling around him even if it's been weakened. I think I can help with that.
"I can ground some of it and contain it for you."
"That'll work."
Darius steps up and prepares his hands to absorb the energy. After he takes a deep breath, he grabs the construct holding the surging energy, bypassing the force field and grips the energy directly with his indigo colored glowing hands, signifying his absorption ability has activated.
As he's gripping & absorbing the surging energy, I can see him grimacing, clenching his teeth and kinda breathing hard.
"Darius? You good? What's wrong?"
"Shit! His energy. Somethings wrong ... .it's not clean."
He jerked as his shoulder twitched.
"What do you mean?"
"His power feels corrupted. It's not raw energy. It feels like something is mixed in it!"
What? Th-....Hmmm, I got an idea what it is. The last time Darius ever react like this to absorbing energy, there's usually one key component that does that and it usually also makes people react relatively the same way the surging man is reacting.
"Damn! I think it's vro. Stop absorbing his power! I don't want you to-"
"It's ok, Z! He needs this energy taken out of him or he'll die!"
"Are you sure? I don't want you to get hurt."
"I'll be fine! Trust me!"
"Ok, but if it feels like its too much, please stop and I'll take over!"
"Fine! Let's do this!"
Darius inhaled, then pushed harder—his body trembling as arcs of lightning flowed into his chest, running up his arms like glowing veins. I extended a force-vent above us, funneling the excess discharge skyward in a controlled blast. The sparks began to thin. The man—still spasming—let out a final breathless grunt before collapsing fully. I caught him mid fall with a construct and slowly brought him to the ground. The light died out. Darius started to stagger. I caught him with one arm, keeping him steady.
"You good?"
"Not dead, so yeah," he muttered.
"But his energy? That shit was definitely laced."
We walked over to assess the man on the ground. He's hardly breathing, but alive. So much of his skin is burnt black, eyes bloodshot, and his nose & mouth is sort of dropping in mucus & saliva, though some of it is dried. There's some holes on his body from where some of his energy was spiking out of. I reached into my personal on hand first aid equipment to try lessen his pain until professional medics arrive. From what I can hear from the crowd, I heard the other officers call for medical help.
From my kit, I pulled out an emergency foam sealer, cracked the top, and began spreading it over the worst of the wounds—along his neck, under the ribs, across a nasty blackened patch near his shoulder. The foam hissed, cooled instantly, and hardened like a gel patch against his shredded skin. To my side, I can see Darius checking on the man. We both see him kinda twitching a bit.
"He's going into shock," Darius said.
"Breathing's shallow. Could pass out any second."
Darius tore open one of the thermal wraps from his belt and gently covered Clay's lower body. I tapped my wrist and issued a direct call to update the medical team.
"Apostle Med Command, this is Z-Force. Variant OD victim stabilized post-surge. Energy has been discharged. Possible internal trauma and dehydration. We need med evac at the Courthouse Station—ASAP."
Clay's chest rose and fell, slow, like the air didn't know if it wanted to stay inside him. Darius pulled out a pulse patch and pressed it to Clay's neck. The light blinked yellow—not red. He was hanging on.
"Come on, man. Just hang in," Darius muttered.
His tone was rough, but not cold. One last thing for me to do for him. I activated a containment dome—my smallest force field—just large enough to curve around us like a half-sphere. I tuned it to soft light, low hum, so Clay wouldn't be overloaded again. More than shielding—it gave him a sense of peace. I lifted him up a little to place parts of that field under his body and tuned it to be softer for him to lay on. Within seconds, the sound of sirens filled the edge of the plaza.
"They're here," I said.
"We bought him time."
Darius sat back, catching his breath. He didn't say anything else. He just watched.
The hum of the ambulance doors sealed Clay off from the chaos. His body was stabilizing, but his breathing was still shallow, ragged like torn fabric. They had him wrapped in foam, a mask over his face, IVs feeding what he'd lost. Darius and I sat in the back of the second med-van, cooling off, trying to breathe normal again. Medics worked quietly around us—checking vitals, applying gel to Darius's palm where the worst of the energy had scorched through. The adrenaline was gone. For the most part, I was ok. Just a slight headache for making and keeping up constructs to handle the man's energy. As I look up, I see a lady walking up to us. Dr. Fawzia is the name I saw on her name tag. From her attire, I can tell she's the field trauma expert. She approached with her data slate under one arm and that same grim look in her eyes.
"Our subject, Clay Harland, is lucky," she began.
"But it's going to be a long recovery. Internal trauma. Neural instability. His whole system went into rejection."
I leaned forward.
"Rejection? What do you mean by that?"
She shook her head.
"He wasn't variant. Well, not till today. According to the bio-scan and registry, he had no Variant markers until about an hour ago. The pills he took were the catalyst. We traced the surge back to a high concentration of unrefined vro mixed with fentanyl. Trace amounts of elements from an Electric V-Fruit were detected in the mix Clay ingested. It was minor, but enough to suggest the pills were tampered with using V-force-based materials. That type of energy—wild, unstable, tied to the electric berry strain—could've easily amplified the vro's effects and triggered the mutation. Whoever made that cocktail wasn't just reckless… they were playing with power they didn't understand. The cocktail forced a temporary mutation that his body couldn't really handle."
Darius muttered a quiet 'Damn,' rubbing the back of his neck.
"He wasn't trying to become anything," I said, voice low.
"Just trying to survive. Just trying to cope."
"Exactly," she confirmed.
"It's happening more often now. These street cocktails—they're not just overdoses anymore. They're weaponized accidents waiting to happen. Clay's just the latest."
We sat in silence as the medical team packed up. Clay was gone. But what he left behind scorched deeper than the sidewalk.A few feet away, Malik, Clarisse, and Jordan stood in a triangle—no more yelling, no more flaring powers. Just silence. Jordan kept his head low. No apologies. But no swagger either. Clarisse stood tall beside Malik, arms crossed, eyes sharp, but tired. I walked up, slow.
"How y'all holding up?" I asked. Clarisse answered first.
"Still processing."
Malik didn't look away from the ground.
"I was mad all day. But that? That just hit different."
Jordan didn't speak. His eyes darted once toward where Clay had been loaded into the ambulance. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and just muttered.
"Bro, what happened to him?"
I just sighed and looked back at the scorch mark on the ground before I turned back to Jordan.
"That man just became a variant thanks to a bad batch of pills a dealer gave him."
Clarisse's hand lowered to her side. She didn't say anything at first. Neither did Malik. They just stood there, letting it settle. Malik's voice broke the silence. Quiet. Controlled. But heavy.
"And it all happened out in the open."
He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers like he was feeling Clay's pain still lingering in his bones.
"No warning. No control. Just… everyone watching. Judging."
He shook his head slowly, gaze locked on the ground.
"That could've been me," he muttered.
"Or anybody like me. We walk around carrying something we didn't ask for… and one bad day? That's all it takes."
Clarisse finally spoke. Her voice was steady, but soft.
"He couldn't hide it." Her fingers curled again.
"He couldn't even if he wanted to."
She glanced toward the scorched tracks. Then to Malik. Then back to me.
"But watching him explode like that, knowing no one gave a damn about why—just what—it made me wonder what I've been silent about. And who I've left behind by staying quiet."
There was guilt in her voice. Not self-loathing—just realization.
Jordan hadn't said a word. But he didn't look away. I turned to him, then. And I didn't raise my voice. I just let the weight carry it.
"You remind me of who I used to be."
Jordan's brows furrowed.
"What?"
"Loud. Defensive. Convinced I had the right to talk over anyone because I didn't know how to listen. I used to think hurting people with my words made me powerful."
He looked uneasy now, but he didn't move. I kept going.
"And then I lost someone I cared about. Because I didn't listen. Because I thought I knew better."
I paused. Let the name settle into the air.
"Her name was Alexandria. She made me see the person I was becoming. And it nearly broke me."
Jordan's lips pressed into a tight line. He shifted on his feet, but didn't interrupt.
"You don't need to be punished," I told him.
"You need to be aware. Of how easy it is to become the reason someone else explodes."
His face didn't crumble. But it cracked. The ego wasn't gone—but for the first time, it looked exhausted. None of them said anything after that. They didn't have to. Because sometimes silence isn't guilt, shame, or pride. Sometimes silence is the moment just before you decide who you want to be next. As the silence stretched between Malik, Clarisse, and Jordan, I gave them a final nod and turned back toward the vans.
Darius was sitting on the open tailgate of the med unit, shirt half unzipped, shoulder wrapped in a cooling bandage that steamed gently against his skin. Fawzia stepped over with a scanner and waved me down.
"Hold still for just a second, Z-Force," she said.
"Want to make sure your nervous system didn't get fried by proximity. You took some of that feedback too."
I raised my arms slightly as she passed the scanner over my chest and neck. It buzzed softly.
"Mild strain," she muttered, frowning at the display.
"Field compression wore you out, but no nerve trauma. You'll feel it in the morning, though."
"Yeah," I said.
"That's kind of my baseline."
She cracked the faintest smile and patted my arm.
"Drink something with electrolytes. And try to relax for an hour or so. Let your system recalibrate."
"You hear that, D?" I called, stepping toward the open van.
Darius looked over at me, his head tipped back, eyes closed against the roof of the cab.
"Yeah," he said with a tired grin.
"She told me the same thing. I told her I don't get paid enough to sit still."
"With your passion & drive, you're worth every penny," I reminded him, sliding into the seat across from him.
He laughed. Just a breath. But it was enough to knock some of the heaviness off. For a minute, we just sat there. No yelling. No surges. No trauma unraveling in front of us. Just a breeze outside the van and the hum of the city trying to pretend nothing wild had happened twenty feet from a train stop.
"That man," Darius said eventually.
"Clay… you think he's gonna make it?"
I nodded slowly.
"He's got a chance."
"That's more than most people get when shit like that goes off," he said.
"You think those three—Malik, Clarisse, even that loudmouth Jordan—you think they'll carry this?"
I leaned back, head against the cool metal wall.
"Not all at once," I said.
"But something cracked. Maybe that's enough. At least for now."
He nodded, eyes drifting shut again. We didn't talk after that. Not for a while. Just let ourselves breathe. We knew more was coming. There always was. But for this moment? Stillness was enough.
Hours have passed and our shift is almost over. Man, I got to say, Salt Lake looks so calm from this height—like the city was holding its breath for a change. Me and Darius had found ourselves a quiet rooftop, far from the courthouse chaos, far from Clay's scorched imprint on the tracks. We'd been cleared by the med techs, told to hydrate and take a minute. So we did. Once we felt better, we kept patrolling til now. Darius sat cross-legged next to me, scrolling through his phone. I leaned back on my elbows, letting the wind cool my arms.
"You ever think about just moving to the mountains?" Darius asked out of nowhere.
"Get some land, raise goats. Make soap. Live like a Variant monk."
"Hell no." I answered back with the quickness.
I started to look at him with my eyebrow raised.
"You want to raise some goats, now? Man, you barely handle a toddler." He laughed.
"Touché."
"How's your daughter, anyway?"
He smiled at that—real, unguarded.
"She's good. Smart as hell. Talks too much. Just like her mom."
I glanced over.
"Speaking of… you still trying to play the 'let's get coffee' game with Shondra?"
"It ain't like that."
"Mmm. But it used to be. Now it's like that… but sad."
Darius chuckled and shook his head.
"You need to mind your business."
"She moved on, D," I said gently.
"And she's happy. Doesn't mean she doesn't respect you. You're doing right by your kid. That's the win."
He looked down at his hands, then shrugged.
"Yeah. I know. Just hard sometimes, seeing her do so well without me."
"That's the point, though," I told him.
"You helped her get to that place. You didn't hold her back. You showed up where it counted."
He nodded slowly.
"Guess that's all I can ask for. I just…I just wish she can see the man that I am or at least what I'm trying to be."
"I get it man, but whether we like it or not, when you mess up the 1st time, you're not promised a 2nd chance, especially from the person you hurt. You'll have to learn to deal with the consequences and move on in your life too."
Darius just takes a long sigh and turns his head.
"You right, you right."
We let that breathe for a second. The rooftop was quiet. No emergencies. No surging variants. Just some peace.
"You know," he muttered.
"I hope that guy, Clay, makes it."
"Yeah," I said.
"Same here. I would like one less vro overdose death today."
That's when the comm buzzed in my ear.
KZZZT —
"Z-Force, this is Dispatch. Come in."
I sat up and tapped it.
"Z-Force. Go ahead."
"Drug bust in progress. West End sector. Units on scene need immediate Variant support. Situation's escalating."
"Copy that," I said.
"Send the coordinates." I turned to Darius.
He was already rising to his feet.
"Another day, another mess."
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" I asked.
"Probably," he said.
"But let's find out how bad it really is first."
With a flick of my wrist, I activated some fields, and launched us off the roof in a trail of shimmering light. Back to work.
We're closing in on the warehouse. The sounds of gunshots and various projectiles blasting in the area give me the sense that this will be another day we need to step in. The second our boots hit the ground, I already know we're not wanted. SWAT vans line the perimeter. Tactical officers crouch behind barricades. Red and blue lights slice through the alley shadows like warning signs. Civilians have long scattered — all that's left are steel, sweat, and tension thick enough to chew.
Darius and I move up past the outer checkpoint where an officer waves us through, barely making eye contact. That's when I see him. Rourke. He's barking orders near the command trailer, red-faced and animated like a man who's losing control but refuses to admit it.
A younger officer — Morales, I think — intercepts us halfway. His uniform's soaked in grime and his voice is tight.
"We've got four suspects barricaded inside. Armed. Enhanced. Might have some civilians caught up. Powers are erratic. Situation's heating fast."
"Then why are we still outside?" Darius asks.
Morales hesitates, like he knows the answer is going to sound stupid when said out loud.
"Director's orders. You two are… authorized for support only. Pull out the wounded, contain stray threats. But as far as entry—"
"We're benched," I say for him.
"Got it."
He gives us a look. Regret, maybe. But he still walks away. Orders are orders.
We make our way closer to the trailer where medics are staging triage near the alleyway. A few injured are being pulled from the rear — mostly civilians who look more scared than hurt. Darius mutters under his breath.
"So we're just clean-up crew? After all that?"
"Apparently," I say, jaw tight.
From the trailer steps Rourke himself, clipboard in hand, pretending this is just another day on the job.
"Z-Force. Ex-Con. You two stick to medical support. My men are handling the breach."
Darius stiffens next to me, but I place a hand on his arm. Not now.
"We're trained for situations like this, Rourke. Variants. Dangerous power flares. We can help—"
"This isn't a superhero set-piece. It's real law enforcement. And I don't need powers screwing up a chain of command."
It's like arguing with a brick wall — except the wall has a badge and a permanent superiority complex.
We step back, silently fuming, as we watch officers botch their strategy in real time. The suspects' powers are ripping holes through the warehouse walls. Smoke pours from busted windows. Radio chatter is scrambled and panicked.
Darius and I had been on standby for over an hour now, waiting. Watching. Trying not to jump in. But the situation's circling the drain. From our rooftop perch, I spot an officer retreating with a bloodied arm, another tripping over rubble while dragging a partner to cover. Gunfire bursts from the front entrance. Then—BOOM. A suspect bursts through the left wall like a wrecking ball, veins lit with unstable plasma energy. His face contorted. Screaming. Firing wild.
A squad of officers ducks for cover — one's too slow. I don't hesitate.
"SHIELD UP!" My force field catches the blast mid-air, redirecting it skyward before it vaporizes half a barricade.
The heat scorches past me. My boots skid across concrete. Behind me, the young officer lets out a breathless curse.
As the smoke clears, I don't look back. I drop the shield and move forward. Darius is already sliding down a pipe to the ground. Another suspect tries to tag him — he absorbs the impact like it's nothing and knocks the guy out cold with a mean left hook.
From below, I hear shouts. Another explosion. The walls rattle. It's falling apart.
I land next to the officer I shielded just in time to catch him slumping.
"MEDIC!" I call out.
"He needs evac, now!"
Rourke storms over behind me, and sure enough—
"You're out of line, Freeman! I told you—"
"You almost lost three men in five minutes. You want me to stand by again? Be my guest. But their blood's on your hands, not mine."
He opens his mouth — then his comm buzzes.
"Let the Apostles handle it. They're cleared. Rourke, fall in line."
He doesn't say a word. I take that as permission.
"Darius — let's finish this."
He nods. We move.
We breach through the south side of the warehouse — a second-floor window blown out just enough for me to shape a barrier pad we can leap onto. The interior is chaos. Sparks fly. Debris rains down like broken promises. Heat and static buzz against my skin like warning signs.
We land hard, cornering the last two suspects.
They're cornered behind a pillar, plasma canisters at their feet, blood spattered on their sleeves. One — the pyro-variant with scorched gloves — looks up, eyes wide. The other mutters something under his breath, then recognizes me.
"...That's Z-Force," he says.
"No—no way. That's THE Z-Force."
"Hell no," the pyro hisses, backing away.
"We're dead. We are dead."
I hold my hand up.
"You're not dead. I'm no killer. We don't even have to fight. Not unless you want to fight. This is your chance. Surrender. End it here."
The pyro's hands shake.
"It's too late. We're in too deep. They'll kill us for even thinking about surrendering."
"You're wrong," I say calmly.
"There's always a choice. But it takes guts to make the right one."
The rock-skin Variant beside him clenches his jaw, then yells, charging forward.
Darius intercepts the rock-variant mid-charge. He absorbs the kinetic impact, his own skin turning jagged and stone-like. One punch later, the attacker crumples.
The pyro sees me again and lights up. Flames whip into a cyclone. I throw up a force wall just as the inferno blasts out. My shield bends, warps, then cracks like glass.
"Zay, MOVE!" Darius yells, ripping a beam from the floor and chucking it.
It slams the pyro hard, knocking him off his feet. He pulls something from his jacket — a volatile combustive gas canister, red-marked and unstable. He's going to blow the whole place.
I shoot forward, dragging a construct like a battering ram. I slam him into a support pillar, grab the canister, and force field-wrap it until it fizzles and implodes inside the barrier. The warehouse shakes. I absorb the echo with my constructs.
Silence.
Then, a slow crackling from Darius's comm.
"All suspects down. Area secure. Medical sweep inbound."
Darius looks at me, pulse still high. I nod.
As we exit through the wreckage, we find Rourke collapsed under part of a collapsed beam. Smoke and fire crawl closer.
Darius spots him. He grits his teeth.
"You good?" I ask.
"No," Darius says flatly — but he moves. He rips the beam off Rourke and hauls him up.
Rourke coughs. Looks at him. Doesn't say a word.
Darius mutters.
"Didn't do it for you."
Rourke doesn't respond — not with gratitude, not with recognition. Just silent resentment. It hangs there, sour in the air.
We step past stunned SWAT teams who can't look us in the eyes. They didn't want us here.
We came anyway. We cleaned up their mess with our own bare damn hands.
As the criminals are cuffed and carried out, I pass the pyro-variant. He looks away from me, bruised and ashamed.
"There's always a chance," I tell him quietly.
"And a choice. You just have to be brave enough to try."
The medics swarm in minutes after the comms clear. Floodlights flicker on across the rubble-strewn lot. Drones buzz overhead. The air reeks of smoke and spent energy, while emergency teams move in to assess the wounded. Darius and I stand off to the side, arms crossed, as a medic checks us over. I wave off a saline drip I don't need.
Across the field, Rourke sits on the back of an ambulance, shirt collar burned and pride even more scorched. He doesn't look at us. Not yet. Then a female officer walks over — tech in hand, eyes on her scanner.
"Z-Force. Darius."
"Yeah?"
"We just got a hit. Lab samples from the warehouse match residue found on the overdose victim from downtown Salt Lake. Clay."
Darius stiffens.
"Same chemical compounds — vro, fentanyl, and a tinge of electric berry V-fruit. This mix originated with this gang. We've been tracking them for months."
She turns to glance at Rourke.
"Problem is, they should've been shut down weeks ago. Intel says your buddy over there was running the op — but he ignored internal recommendations. Blew at least two chances to intercept the supply line. Word is, he was warned to bring in Variant officers for any direct ops or stings involving this group... but kept refusing."
The medic behind her mutters.
"We almost had 'em last week. Rourke called off the raid. Said we didn't need 'costumed charity projects' involved."
My jaw clenches. Darius mutters something under his breath, unreadable.
I step forward. Rourke looks up just as I approach. He meets my eyes with the kind of resentment that hides behind deflection.
"Let me guess," he says, voice ragged.
"You want an apology."
"No," I say evenly.
"I want you to live with it." He blinks.
"You were too proud to let us help," I continued.
"Too ignorant to see the fire at your feet. You nearly got your men killed. You almost got innocents killed due to your negligence."
He shook his head in shock and gave me a look of confusion.
"Earlier today me & Darius had to save a man that OD'ed from the drugs these dudes were serving and you could've been intervened if you just got out of your own way and do what you actually are mentally to do."
He shifts uncomfortably, but I don't stop.
"Next time you lead with your pride, be ready to explain to your wife… your kids… and to every grieving family that had to pay for your fuck ups… why your ego was an acceptable excuse for their loved ones not coming home."
I let that sit. Not as a threat. As a fact. Rourke looks down. Says nothing.
Darius joins me. We walk. Officers nearby give us the same looks we've seen before—resentment, suspicion, hostility. It rolls off us now like static. But then one of them—Morales—peels away from the crowd. He walks up, scratches the back of his neck, and mutters.
"For what it's worth… thank you. For everything you guys did here."
I nod once.
"Just doing the job."
He opens his mouth like he wants to say more—but doesn't. He steps back. We keep moving. Past the wounded. Past the wreckage. Past the silence of a man who nearly cost lives because of his own reflection in the mirror.
After everything today—Clay's overdose, Rourke's ego, Malik & Jordan —I feel heavy as I lift into the night sky, I'm carrying me & Darius are flying back to the precinct.
"You ever thought about making these fields cozier and softer while your flying these?" Darius asks dryly, clearly uneasy with dangling beneath me.
"Or maybe let me take my car next time?" I chuckle softly.
"Hey, you wanted the quick way."
"Quick, sure but I like to be comfortable as well."
We touch down gently near the precinct, Darius dropping to his feet and stretching. He looks worn out. We both are.
"You gonna be good to drive?" I ask him, genuinely concerned.
"I'll be fine," he says with a small smile.
"Been through worse."
"Yeah," I nod, feeling the day's weight bearing down again.
"Today was...heavy."
He sighs deeply.
"No lie. Rourke is still on my nerves right now. Foo almost got himself and others killed."
I glance toward the street, the streetlights casting long shadows.
"Pride's a killer, man. Always has been."
Darius nods solemnly, then pats my shoulder.
"Get some rest, Z. You've earned it."
"You too," I say softly, watching him get into his car and drive off into the quiet streets.
The cool night air fades as I step outside my house's front door. As I walk in, Luna rushes up to me immediately, tail wagging in excitement. Joy, sprawled across the arm of the sofa, barely offers me a glance, as if silently reprimanding me for waking her.
"Hey, girls," I whisper tiredly, scratching Luna's ears gently and softly stroking Joy's fur.
The quiet warmth of the room welcomes me, washing away the cold weight I carried home. Aiden is curled up on the sofa, bundled in one of my oversized hoodies. He slowly opens his eyes and smiles when he sees me.
"Hey," he murmurs sleepily.
"You're home."
"Yeah," I say softly, sinking into the couch beside him.
Luna jumps up, lying protectively at our feet, while Joy settles closer to Aiden, flicking her tail with lazy approval.
"You okay?" Aiden asks gently, placing a comforting hand over mine.
"I'm getting there," I admit quietly.
"Long day."
He nods slowly, understanding, and turns his attention back toward the TV softly playing in the background. I glance up as the late-night panel discussion catches my eye. It's a popular show—'The Panel Point'—and the chyron reads: 'Zavier Freeman Confrontation Sparks Debate.'
The host, serious and composed, addresses the camera.
"Today's biggest trending story involves Apostle Zavier Freeman intervening in a conflict between two Variants—a young man named Jordan Kim and Malik Wong. Here's the clip that's sparked this conversation."
Footage rolls—me stepping between Jordan and Malik. My voice is clear, calm, and firm, confronting Jordan without aggression, but making sure my words cut deep. The clip ends, cutting back to the panelists. I giggle a bit out loud. Aiden turns to me, curious about my reaction.
"Sorry. I forgot people were recording us. I was so focused on the moment."
Aiden snickers as he holds me.
"Regardless, you told him what he needed to hear."
As I take in his words and I squeeze and kiss his hands for confirmation, I have the TV my attention.
Andre Talbot, a conservative commentator for the show, speaks first, clearly critical.
"I just find it troubling. Zavier Freeman lectures this young man, but we know about Freeman's past issues. It feels hypocritical to see him play moral judge, given his own history."
I let out a long sigh, shaking my head slightly. Aiden gently squeezes my hand in reassurance.
Nikki Roan, a youth activist, quickly counters him.
"But isn't that exactly why he's qualified? Zavier knows firsthand the consequences of arrogance. He's clearly learned from his mistakes. If anything, we should appreciate the fact that he's trying to prevent others from making the same ones."
Andre shakes his head dismissively.
"But he embarrassed that boy publicly. You think that helps him?"
Dr. Celine Marron, a calm, measured voice, intervenes firmly.
"Embarrassment fades. Consequences don't. What Zavier did was hold Jordan accountable. And that's the type of uncomfortable truth many young people desperately need to hear—especially from someone who genuinely understands."
The host interjects gently.
"Speaking of accountability and truth, a new clip just came in that's gone viral. Let's take a look."
The video begins with Clarisse adjusting her phone nervously. Her hands tremble slightly as she steadies herself, sitting cross-legged on her bed. She clears her throat softly, visibly trying to gather courage before speaking.
"My name's Clarisse Aoki. I'm an Ani-Variant. A fox girl, as you can see."
She lightly touches one of her fox-like ears, smiling shyly but with an undeniable sadness in her eyes.
"For as long as I can remember, I've hidden this part of me from everyone—friends, teachers, even family. Every morning I tuck my ears away, cover my tail, and pretend I'm someone I'm not. I learned how to blend in, just to survive."
She pauses, swallowing visibly as her voice shakes a bit.
"But today... today hit me hard. Seeing Malik, a Variant who couldn't hide, targeted and mocked openly in public—it was like seeing every fear I've ever had come to life. He didn't do anything wrong; he was just existing. And then Clay…"
Her voice trails off, eyes glistening. She wipes away a tear, takes a slow breath, then continues.
"Clay didn't have a choice either. His overdose forced him into the open, made him vulnerable, showed everyone the pain he was hiding. Seeing that—it made me realize that hiding doesn't protect us from anything. It just isolates us more. It keeps us silent when we should be speaking up."
Her gaze grows steadier, filled with quiet resolve.
"I've spent years hiding, terrified of people's judgment, terrified of rejection. But if today taught me anything, it's that the world doesn't change until someone chooses to stop hiding, stop being silent."
Clarisse's voice grows stronger now, clearer.
"And I need to thank Zavier and Darius for that. You both stepped up today—not for applause, not for attention, but simply because it was right. You saw Malik and you protected him. You saw Jordan and you held him accountable. You made people see Variants as humans, deserving of respect, deserving of dignity."
She pauses, a faint smile finally breaking through her solemn expression.
"Watching you, I finally felt brave enough to stop hiding. I felt seen—truly seen—for the first time in my life. You gave me the courage to show myself, the real me. And I won't ever forget it."
Clarisse looks directly into the camera now, warmth and gratitude radiating from her expression.
"So thank you, Zavier and Darius. From me and from every Variant who's ever felt alone—thank you for giving us a voice, and for reminding us we're worth being heard."
The video ends quietly, Clarisse's brave, hopeful expression lingering as the screen softly fades to black. The panelists sit quietly, absorbing the emotional sincerity of her message. I sit silently as I wait for their reactions, still holding onto Aiden's hand, a quiet tension beginning to form inside my chest.
Dr. Marron's calm voice breaks the silence first.
"Clarisse's video captures why what Zavier said matters. It's not about punishment—it's about accountability. By confronting Jordan, Zavier set an example. He showed our past doesn't have to define us, as long as we're genuinely willing to change."
I exhale slowly, feeling some of the weight ease off my shoulders. Aiden softly squeezes my hand, giving me a small, encouraging smile.
Nikki nods quickly in agreement.
"Exactly. Acknowledging mistakes doesn't mean dismissing growth. Clarisse clearly needed someone to show her it was okay to step out of hiding."
I nod slightly along with her words, appreciative of the understanding, until Andre leans forward, his expression stern and skeptical.
"Look, I get it. Clarisse's courage is admirable, and yes, Zavier inspired her today. But let's slow down. Good actions don't erase past harm." He pauses, looking around the table. "R. Kelly made 'I Believe I Can Fly'—an inspiring song—but did that erase the harm he did to minors? Woody Allen inspired countless filmmakers, but we can't overlook his troubling behavior behind the scenes. People admired Cliff Huxtable, saw him as the perfect father, until we learned about the reality of Bill Cosby's actions. Same goes for the father from '7th Heaven,' and countless preachers who helped thousands while abusing children."
My stomach twists as he continues, my hand tightening around Aiden's almost involuntarily. Andre's voice softens slightly but remains firm.
"Temaria—the girl Zavier hurt in middle school—what do you think his good deeds mean to her? If you're the one who's been hurt, can a lifetime of heroics ever make up for what you suffered?"
The room feels suddenly colder. I swallow hard, the name 'Temaria' striking deep, a bitter, familiar sting rising in my throat.
Aiden looks at me worriedly.
"Zavier…you okay?"
I shake my head slowly, barely whispering.
"He's right. It doesn't change what I did to her."
Dr. Marron's voice brings my focus back to the TV, her tone somber but understanding.
"That's the difficult truth, Andre. There isn't an easy answer. All we can do now is look at who Zavier is today, hold him accountable, and keep demanding he does better."
Andre nods slowly, reluctantly. The host quietly summarizes,
"Accountability is complex. Perhaps all we can truly do is face who we have in front of us now, ensuring their actions match their claims."
I sit back heavily on the couch, letting their words sink in. Andre's questions linger in my head, painful but valid.
"Zavier," Aiden whispers gently, turning my face toward his.
"You're not perfect. But you've grown. That counts for something, right?"
I breathe deeply, meeting his worried gaze with quiet determination.
"It counts—but not for everything. I can't undo what I did. All I can do is keep trying to prove I've learned."
He softly kisses my temple.
"Then we'll keep proving it together."
I squeeze his hand gently, feeling both humbled and resolved. Andre's words sting deeply, and maybe they should. But right now, sitting here with Aiden, I'm reminded exactly why I have to keep moving forward—no matter how heavy the past might weigh.