00:08. The timer on the bomb didn't care about Xavier's revenge. It just kept ticking. The air in the room felt like it was made of lead. Xavier looked at the locked door, then at the heavy glass window. 50 feet. It was a long way down to a concrete floor that promised nothing but a broken spine.
00:05. He didn't think. He didn't have time to pray. He tucked the locket—the only link to his living mother—deep into his tactical vest. He sprinted, his boots thudding against the metal floor.
00:02. With a roar that ripped through his throat, Xavier threw his entire body weight against the glass.
CRASH.
The world exploded. Not just the building, but the very air around him. The blast wave hit his back like a giant's fist, propelling him through the shattered glass just as the room behind him turned into a fireball. For a second, he was flying. Everything was in slow motion—the orange flames, the flying shards of glass reflecting the fire, and the cold night air hitting his face. Then, gravity reclaimed its debt.
Xavier didn't land gracefully. He hit a pile of industrial waste—discarded rubber and plastic—which probably saved his life, but it didn't save him from the pain. His shoulder popped out of its socket with a sickening thud. His lungs felt like they were filled with hot ash.
He lay there, staring at the burning steel mill. The heat was intense, singing his hair. He tried to move his arm, and a scream died in his throat. Pain was a white-hot knife twisting in his chest.
"Silas..." he wheezed into his comms. Only static answered.
He crawled, inch by agonizing inch, away from the fire. He was bleeding from a dozen cuts, and his new face—the face Silas had built with such precision—was covered in soot and blood. He reached into his vest. The locket was there. Cold. Hard. Real.
"I'm coming for you, Ma," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Even if I have to burn this whole city to find you."
Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. Not Silas. Not the police. It was a pair of expensive, polished leather shoes. He looked up, his vision blurring. A man stood there, silhouetted against the fire. He was holding a black umbrella, though there was no rain.
"You have your mother's stubbornness, Arjun," the man said. The voice wasn't robotic anymore. It was smooth, cultured, and terrifyingly familiar.
The man knelt down, the umbrella still shielding him from the falling ash. He tipped the umbrella back, and for the first time, Xavier saw the face of The Phoenix.
It was Vikram Raichand Senior. The man whose name Silas had given to Xavier as a cover. The legendary billionaire who was supposed to have died in Singapore a decade ago.
"You?" Xavier gasped, coughing up blood. "The Raichands... they were my mother's family."
"They were my family, boy," Vikram Senior sneered. "Your father, Vikram Vardhan, didn't just steal my name; he stole my sister. Your mother. He thought he could bury the Raichand legacy and build his 'Vardhan' empire on our blood. I let him play his little game for years. I let him think he won."
"Then why... why kidnap her?"
Vikram Senior gripped Xavier's chin, his fingers cold as ice. "Because she chose him. Even after he betrayed her, even after he tried to kill you, she still loves that pathetic man. I kept her alive to see him fall. And now that he's in jail, and you've done my dirty work of destroying his company... I have no more use for the Vardhan bloodline."
He stood up and signaled to the dark vans pulling up behind him. "Take him. Silas did a good job making a weapon out of him. Now, let's see if this weapon can be reprogrammed."
Xavier felt the sting of a needle in his neck. His vision started to fade into black. But before he lost consciousness, he saw Silas walking out of the shadows. Silas wasn't bound. He wasn't bleeding. He walked straight to Vikram Raichand and handed him Xavier's tactical vest.
"The microchip is in the locket," Silas said, his voice void of any emotion.
Xavier's heart shattered. Silas? The man who rebuilt him? The man who gave him a second life? He was working for the Phoenix all along?
"You... Silas... why?" Xavier's voice was a mere whisper.
Silas looked down at Xavier, his gray eyes as empty as a desert. "I told you, Xavier. I build weapons. I never said I owned them. Vikram Raichand paid for your transformation. I just delivered the final product."
The darkness finally swallowed Xavier.
Xavier woke up in a room with no windows. No sound. Only the hum of an air conditioner. He was strapped to a chair—the same kind of chair he had seen Meera in. But this time, there was no Silas to save him. Suddenly, the door opened. A woman walked in. It wasn't his mother. It was Meera. But she wasn't crying anymore. She was wearing a lab coat, and her eyes were cold. "Welcome back, Arjun," she said, picking up a scalpel. "Now, let's start the real architecture."