The city breathed fire beneath a sky heavy with storm clouds, the scent of gasoline and betrayal thick in the air. Ethan Ward stood at the edge of a rooftop, the wind tugging at his coat like a desperate hand. His eyes were fixed on the warehouse below—an old meatpacking plant rebranded as a logistics hub, now crawling with the same cartel men he'd been tracing for weeks.
But this wasn't just another job. This wasn't just another drop or retaliation.
This was where it all started to unravel.
He adjusted the wire in his ear. "Mic check."
"Loud and clear," came Cassia's voice. Calm, efficient, but Ethan could sense the unease beneath. "You sure about this? It's crawling with heat."
"I've been sure since they burned the last clinic," Ethan muttered, crouching low as he slipped into the shadows. "I need the names. The shipments. The next target."
Cassia sighed. "I hacked the manifest. There's a delivery scheduled tonight. Trucks loaded with more than just pills. You're walking into a killbox, Ethan."
He smirked. "Then I'll bring the fire."
Inside, the warehouse was colder than it should have been. Concrete floors still stained from the building's bloody past. Fluorescent lights flickered above rows of stacked crates marked with false company names. Ethan moved like a wraith, each step calculated, measured. He counted seven men, armed. Two near the loading bay, one on the catwalk above. Three clustered around a crate near the center. And one more—out of sight, but the air whispered of him.
He reached the shadows behind a column and paused.
You don't hesitate, he reminded himself. Not anymore.
He moved.
In a flash, the first man dropped, silenced by Ethan's blade. The second barely had time to cry out before a suppressor hissed, and he crumpled. Chaos exploded through the warehouse.
"Contact! He's inside!" a voice barked.
They opened fire, bullets slicing the air as Ethan dove behind a stack of crates. Wood splintered. He flanked, rolled, then sprang up behind a pillar, shooting two rounds—one struck a shoulder, the other a leg. The men collapsed, screaming.
On the catwalk, the third man raised his rifle.
Ethan didn't flinch. He fired once.
The body crashed down.
Then—silence.
He exhaled, blood pumping, knuckles white around the pistol.
"Cass," he whispered into the mic. "They were guarding something. I'm at the crate."
"Hold on—sending drone footage now." A pause. Then: "Shit. Ethan… it's not drugs. That's high-grade military hardware. That's Halcyon tech."
The name burned in his ears like a curse.
Halcyon.
The company that had made him. Then tried to erase him.
Inside the crate was a sleek metallic briefcase, locked with biometric ID. He recognized the seal—classified research division. Level 7.
The same division tied to experimental neuroweaponry.
He ran a trembling hand over the surface. This wasn't a cartel supply line. This was something deeper. Something darker.
That's when the lights cut out.
And the warehouse went black.
From the shadows, something moved. Heavy. Mechanical. Ethan's heart kicked into overdrive.
Cassia's voice came through, broken, crackling with interference. "Ethan—get out. Something just activated. I don't know what it is but—"
The wall exploded inward.
Through the smoke stepped something inhuman—seven feet tall, armored in jet-black plating. It moved like a man, but its eyes glowed a sickly red. A Halcyon prototype.
They'd sent Pulse.
Ethan barely had time to leap aside as a thunderous shockwave tore across the floor, flinging crates like toys. He slammed into a metal beam, dazed. Blood pooled in his mouth.
"Prototype Pulse-09," the machine droned. "Target identified. Ethan Ward. Termination authorized."
Another blast. The floor ruptured.
Ethan rolled, drew a smoke grenade from his belt, yanked the pin, and flung it. A cloud engulfed the space, but Pulse's sensors weren't hindered.
He fired blindly and ran, diving behind cover, grabbing one of the downed men's rifles. It wouldn't last. This wasn't a man—it was a weapon designed to outlast entire squads.
Still, Ethan moved.
He dashed through the smoke, zigzagging between support beams, laying down suppressive fire. Pulse stalked him—unhurried, unstoppable. Each step a thunderclap.
Cassia's voice returned. "There's a maintenance tunnel under the east wall! Twenty meters—run!"
Ethan bolted.
The moment he reached the wall, Pulse raised its arm—and launched a pulse blast. The ground cracked. Ethan screamed as the shockwave slammed him forward.
He crashed through the floor.
Darkness swallowed him.
The Tunnels
Blood trickled down his face. The tunnel was barely lit, just enough for Ethan to crawl. He heard metal tearing above. Pulse wasn't giving up.
He stumbled forward, dragging the case with him. It weighed more than he expected—not just physically. Emotionally. Inside that case was a piece of the puzzle. Something that could burn Halcyon from the inside out.
Or destroy him in the process.
He reached a rusted ladder, climbed into a utility access chamber. Cassia was already tracking him.
"I've pinged your location. Get to the intersection two blocks west. I'm bringing the car."
Ethan emerged into the cold night, gasping, coughing soot. Sirens echoed faintly. The city breathed again.
But something had changed.
Somewhere Else
In a room filled with silence and surveillance, a figure watched Ethan stumble through the dark like a wounded beast. He sipped tea from a porcelain cup.
"Subject Ward is adapting," he murmured to the figure beside him. "Much faster than projected."
"And Pulse failed," the second voice rasped.
The man smiled.
"No, not failed. We needed him to survive. We needed him angry. That's when he's most… compliant."
The screen flickered. Ethan's face filled it. Broken. But burning.
"This," the man whispered, "is how equilibrium begins."