They arrived at the apartment. It was eerily silent as they stepped inside—too quiet, almost oppressive. The kind of silence that made Mira's ears ring and her skin crawl. The door closed behind them with a soft click, but it did little to drown out the distant alarms, and flashbacks of her parents, or the screams echoing in her mind. Those sounds haunted the corners of her memory like ghosts and images of things that were familiar to her but at the same time, they weren't vague, almost as if it was stuff she tried to forget.
Crystal staggered first, her face pale and sweaty. Her hand slapped against the cool wall for support as she wiped fresh blood from under her nose, noticing the warm, metallic taste coating her tongue.
"Crystal—sit down," Alec said immediately, already by her side, concern creasing his brow. His voice was soft but tense, as if he were forcing himself not to panic. He gently guided her to the worn-but-sturdy couch, fabric torn in places from past fights.
"I'm fine," she muttered, though her breath hitched painfully. "Just… used too much, without even realizing I did."
Hiro shrugged off his battered leather jacket, tossing it onto the nearest chair with a soft thud. His jaw clenched as he looked at her, eyes dark with worry. "No. You're not fine." His tone was calmer than the others', but that calmness made his words sharper. "And none of us are. That wasn't one of our usual missions, but…" He exhaled heavily, the tension in his shoulders obvious. "It could've been worse."
Owen paced near the large window, his steps uneven and restless. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists, as if trying to crush the memory of burned flesh and the choking smell still lingering in his lungs and nose. "Could've been worse," he muttered bitterly, his eyes darting toward the chaos outside.
Dr. Varin stood near the door—directly in front of it—like he wasn't sure whether he was allowed to move. His hands trembled, fingers twitching uncontrollably as if he wanted to speak but couldn't find the words.
Alec finally looked up at him, suspicion in his eyes. "Why are you standing there? Directly in front of the door?" Alec muttered softly. "You look guilty."
Owen stopped pacing and looked from Alec to Varin. "Maybe because he is guilty," Owen said coldly, his voice dropping. "Think about it, Alec. Really think, but the question is, are you?"
He stepped closer, darkening his expression. "Phoenix is one of the strongest gangs because of his work."
Varin flinched visibly, his face draining of color.
And the room fell into heavy silence.
Varin swallowed hard, his voice thin and trembling. "I… never intended—"
"Didn't intend?" Owen snapped, a sharp, humorless laugh escaping him. "Your 'intentions' don't erase the damage. People died because of your creations and will keep dying. Over and over. But now, it's not even just the powers—they're stronger because of what you made. And they're selling it, giving it out like candy. Shit, I almost became addicted myself."
"Owen," Joel warned from across the room, his tone low but commanding. He'd been silent until now, leaning against the battered kitchen counter, arms crossed. "Enough."
Owen turned sharply, jaw clenched. "No. He needs to hear it. I'm tired of him."
Joel didn't move or raise his voice, but a heavy, cold silence filled the room. "We brought him here because we need him. We don't have to like him. We don't have to trust him. But we need his knowledge, his research on these powers. If you scare him into giving up, we'll get nothing."
Owen clenched his jaw but didn't argue.
Mira, silent since they entered, finally spoke, her voice shaky but steady. "Just to make sure I'm right. You were part of the research team, right?" she asked Varin quietly. "The one who made the drug?" Varin nodded shakily.
Crystal, still shallow-breathing on the worn-out couch, lifted her head weakly. "He is, he said it at the gang base," she rasped. "It's crazy how they managed to twist his work from what had a pure intent behind it, into something completely chaotic." Varin's shoulders sagged as he spoke barely above a whisper. "They… replicated the earlier version," he said softly. "But poorly. Autonomization wasn't finished when it was stolen. The samples people took were unstable, anyone who used them would take bigger drawbacks than ever before." His hands shook harder. "Also they didn't do a good job with the samples. When phoenix realized they couldn't do it as I did, they kidnapped me. And when the government cut our funding, my family—my entire legacy—collapsed too. I lost the will to fight since then." Joel's eyes narrowed sharply. "Explain."
Varin hesitated—then everything he kept in spilled out as if he'd been waiting years to say it.
"My family was one of the oldest research dynasties in Vexen—wealthy, respected, funded by the government itself." His voice cracked with emotion. "But after production slowed down because we hadn't recovered from the robbery, the government labeled our project useless, a waste of time and money. They pulled support, and we went bankrupt within months."
Varin continued, "And as you know, before we could even finish our research, word spread. People stormed the labs—gangs, enemies, foreign couuntries. Everyone wanted a piece of it. Phoenix got to it first and got a big portion."
"We get that. It explains why there are emergencies for our allied countries being called, war might break out," Crystal said softly, wiping sweat from her forehead.
Joel's arms dropped from his chest. "Why didn't you make your story known?"
Varin let out a small, broken laugh. "And say what? That I invented the a weapon that caused the risk of war breaking out and increased the rate of people killing? My research would be the cause of many deaths. I'd be mocked for years. It's not exactly a bright tale or one that can be told outloud."
Silence fell again.
Then Irene—sitting on the floor with her knees pulled up—spoke in a hollow voice.
"So you regret it."
Varin's eyes met hers, haunted and fragile.
"I regret everything, but at the same time I don't. I don't regret trying to help our country."
For a moment, no one responded.
Then Joel straightened, pushing off the counter. "We can work with regret," he said firmly. "What we can't work with is fear. But do you agree to help us, to end this curse and destroy your own research if needed?"
Owen looked at Dr. Varin. "You can modify powers. You probably understand how they work. You're going to help us figure out how to remove powers entirely. For real this time. Not enhance them—erase them." he said.
The doctor nodded, terror still flickering in his eyes.
Mira looked at the group—Crystal pale and exhausted, Owen restless and angry, Alec quietly worried, Hiro trying to stay calm, Irene withdrawn into herself, Joel carrying the weight of leadership, Varin drowning in guilt.
Owen crossed the room again, stopping by the window. His jaw was clenched, fists tightening until his knuckles turned white. "Honestly, we can't just sit here," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Every second Phoenix has to rebuild… they'll get stronger. And when they do, it won't just be a gang war anymore—it'll be a slaughter, they'll definitely be on a rampage. I know this because I used to be a bad guy, and was actually around people like them."
Hiro, near the kitchenette, rubbed the back of his neck. "We've got to plan our next step carefully. This isn't just about raiding their base anymore. They know someone interfered with their operations. They'll retaliate, and they'll be looking for us, the moment they get the chance to do so at least." Hiro said with a smile.
Joel knelt beside Crystal, gently brushing her hair from her face. "You were the first one to act," he said softly. "And thank you for everything."
Varin, near the door, finally took a deep breath. His gaze fell to the floor, shoulders slumping. "—I'll help," he said softly. "But I don't know where to start. I only know the process I used to… enhance. Removing… that's untested."
Joel stepped forward, placing a firm hand on the back of Varin's shoulder. "Then we test. Carefully. Step by step. And we'll succeed but we need no more mistakes. This ends here."
Irene, still sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, finally looked up. Her voice was small but sharp. "We also need to protect ourselves. If Phoenix finds out where we are, we'll be sitting ducks. The next attack could be worse than anything we faced today."
Crystal exhaled shakily. "We'll need hiding spots just in case. Safe houses. Supplies. And someone to monitor Phoenix's movements, which I can do" She glanced at Mira. "You're recklessly using your lightning inside the apartment, we don't practice in here."
Mira nodded.. "I'll practice my powers somewhere else. I have to. I can't let… You guys die because of me, I need to get stronger." Alec and Owen glance at her.
Joel's eyes swept over the group, settling on each one. "Tonight, we regroup. Tomorrow, we plan. Every move counts from here on. This isn't just about stopping the drug—it's about ending a cycle that's been running for generations, you guys should know this by now."
Varin's voice broke through the silence. "If I can help stop this… maybe some of those deaths, some of that pain, can at least mean something."
Owen let out a low, bitter laugh. "Meaning something doesn't stop what already is done. But I guess I trust you. You're cool. Don't screw it up, and Joel and Hiro don't have a lot of time left, so don't take your slow time."
The silence didn't fully settle after Owen's clarification.
It just shifted.
Varin stood near the edge of the table, fingers resting against old printed documents — scans of research that predated all of them.
"My family's work," he began carefully, "was never about erasing abilities."
Everyone looked at him again.
"It was about understanding them."
Joel's expression remained steady. "Understanding how?"
Varin exhaled.
"Classification. Structural mapping. They were among the early analysts during the Cold War when abilities first started appearing in documented clusters. Governments panicked. They wanted weapons. My family wanted understanding."
Alec straightened slightly.
"They categorized abilities by type, origin theory, neurological strain, energy output limits… but what mattered most was this."
He tapped one of the folders lightly.
"They discovered that powers come with inherent drawbacks."
Irene's eyes narrowed slightly. "Like the enhancer?"
"No," Varin shook his head. "The enhancer amplifies risk. But even natural abilities have costs. Neurological fatigue. Organ strain. Death. Lifespan reduction."
Crystal swallowed faintly.
"They concluded abilities aren't gifts," Varin continued. "They're exchanges."
The room felt colder.
"An equilibrium," Alec murmured.
"Yes," Varin said. "Every ability disrupts something. The body compensates. Sometimes it fails."
Joel crossed his arms.
"And suppression?"
Varin hesitated.
He paused.
He looked directly at Joel and Hiro.
"They haven't just existed — they've become apart of us."
Silence deepened.
"That's not my question," Hiro said quietly.
"I think," Varin replied carefully, "that you might be overestimating yourselves."
He stepped back slightly from the table.
"You can't tell me you're the first people to consider removing abilities entirely. During the Cold War, nations were terrified. If erasure was simple, someone would have attempted it."
Joel's jaw tightened faintly.
Varin didn't look accusatory — just realistic.
"These abilities are no longer isolated phenomena. They're systemic. Generational."
He shook his head slightly.
"You guys can't be the first ones to try this."
The words landed heavier than any insult.
"And if no one succeeded before…" Irene said quietly.
"Then maybe," Varin finished gently, "it's because the system resists being undone."
Mira stared at the floor.
Alec's mind raced.
Varin's voice softened.
"I'm not saying it's impossible. Science evolves. Data accumulates. But removing abilities from every living person?" He exhaled slowly. "That might be a dream that won't come true."
Not mocking.
Not cruel.
Just grounded.
Crystal looked shaken.
Hiro folded his arms tighter.
Joel's gaze didn't waver — but something behind it flickered.
"Dreams are what change the world," Joel said quietly.
"Yes," Varin agreed. "But some dreams collide with biology."
Owen shifted his weight.
"So your family never attempted full erasure?"
"No," Varin replied. "They only focused on the function of these powers."
Mira's head lifted sharply.
"so you're saying you're useless, not that i care."
"I'm saying," Varin answered carefully, "that they didn't focus on that, but the research is still useful."
The word clean echoed from earlier.
Joel didn't flinch.
"So what do you wanna dl?"
"Research," Varin said. "We study suppression first. We don't jump to rewriting human evolution."
Varin stepped back fully.
"I'll help," he said. "But I won't pretend this is something no one has ever dreamed of before."
He looked at them again.
"And I won't promise a miracle."
Outside, distant sirens carried through the city again.
The world wasn't waiting for philosophical clarity.
But inside that apartment, the scale of what they were discussing finally felt real.
Crystal leaned back against the couch, her face pale and strained, closing her eyes briefly. Mira sat on the floor, trembling slightly, thinking. Hiro and Alec moved quietly, tending to minor injuries and checking supplies. Joel remained standing, silent, already planning the next steps.
Outside the apartment, Vexen carried on, unaware—or perhaps uncaring—of the brewing storm in the hearts of a small, determined group. The city's neon lights flickered across puddles, streets hummed with life, and the distant sirens and gang fight echoed faintly, but others in Vexen made their way to support their allied countries, America will help their allies no matter the cost.
But, the weight of regret, fear, and responsibility pressed down on some of them all, even Owen can feel it. Tonight, they would regroup. Tomorrow, they would start planning. And they would do it together, even if the cost of failure was unimaginably high,
At the Vexen Police Station,
A man stepped up to the reception desk, clearing his throat.
"I'd like to file a report," he said firmly.
"There's been a breach of conduct. Someone openly disrespected our god at the Church of Vexen."
Vexen carried on—indifferent to the storm gathering in its shadows. Neon lights shimmered across rain-slick concrete, crowds moved with their usual hurried pace, and distant sirens cried out from the lower districts. Gang clashes erupted in far-off streets like sparks barely noticed by the rest of the city. And as the sun finally slipped beneath the horizon, the city exhaled—lights dimming, doors shutting, and millions surrendering to sleep—while none of them knew the storm quietly forming in the dark.