The city burned with a quiet rage.
Ethan Ward stood atop the fractured rooftop of an old water tower, eyes tracing the distant skyline of Caelum Ridge—his home, once. Now, it was just another hollow sector swallowed by the rot of men in suits and monsters in shadows. Below him, in the bones of the building, Pulse agents moved like predators in formation—clean, methodical, armed with suppressed weapons and the certainty of absolute authority.
Ethan wasn't here to fight.
He was here to destroy.
The documents they'd intercepted last night confirmed it—Sable was expanding. They weren't just testing Halcyon prototypes on the fringes anymore. They were preparing mass distribution—siphoning human emotion, repurposing pain, selling nightmares for profit. This warehouse, on the edge of District 9, was their launchpad.
Beside him, Nova crouched low, rifle slung across her back. "Heat signatures confirm ten inside. Two working on the transfer pods. Others securing the crates. It's a fortress."
Ethan's voice was gravel. "Then we'll make it a tomb."
He vaulted from the ledge without waiting for a signal.
The impact shook his bones, but he didn't falter. Shadows swallowed him as he moved, the prototype suit—black reinforced fiber, laced with pulse-dampening nodes—rendering him a ghost among men. He was no longer the desperate chemist fighting to survive. He was something more. Something that didn't bleed like them anymore.
Inside, it was chaos.
Flashbang.
Screams.
Silence.
One by one, they fell—stunned, unconscious, broken. Ethan's knives carved through the air, striking non-lethal points with surgical precision. This wasn't about mercy—it was control. He needed answers.
Nova breached from the other side, bullets whispering death as she dropped two before they could touch the alarm.
They met in the center of the facility—rows of metallic crates, glowing with Halcyon-blue light. Nova slid open one of them.
Inside… was a child. Sedated. Hooked to wires. Just like before.
Ethan stared. For a long time, he didn't breathe.
"Three years old," Nova whispered. "They're refining the age curve now. Emotional purity. Easier to extract."
A fire lit in Ethan's chest. Not the kind that burned—it roared, ancient and ugly. "We take the servers. Every file. Every face."
They didn't have long. Backup would arrive.
As Nova started downloading the data, Ethan moved toward the center terminal. He hacked through the first layer—biometric ID. The second—emotional encryption. Sable encrypted their logs based on neurological pulses from project leaders. It wasn't just science. It was madness masquerading as innovation.
Then something caught his eye.
Project Sovereign – Candidate E.W.
His fingers paused. His initials.
He opened the file.
Lines of code. Data streams. Psychological projections. Every choice he had made since escaping the facility. Every outburst, every killing, every shift in morality—recorded. Predicted.
Nova looked over his shoulder. "They've been watching you… since the beginning."
He felt sick. His hand trembled.
And in the far corner of the screen, a note.
Observation Consistent. Acceleration Imminent. Phase Two requires emotional rupture. Initiate Sable Handler: Subject "Icarus."
Icarus.
The handler assigned to break him. It wasn't over. It had never been.
The building rumbled suddenly. Sirens.
"They're here!" Nova yelled.
Ethan grabbed the drives and turned. "Fall back. We torch everything."
Explosives planted. Countdown: 60 seconds.
They made it out just as the first wave arrived—Pulse shock troopers in black tactical gear, weapons raised.
Ethan activated his cloak field and disappeared into smoke and flame. Nova followed seconds later, sliding into the sewer grates as the warehouse erupted behind them, a blossom of fire devouring the sky.
Safehouse – 3:23 a.m.
Nova sat on the metal table, blood streaked across her jaw.
Ethan stared at the drive. "They knew me before I knew myself."
"You think someone sold you out?"
He didn't answer.
Nova leaned forward. "You said you used to work for the pharma sector. Maybe you were part of this. And they wiped you."
"Maybe." His voice was hollow. "But I'm not running anymore."
He opened the files again. Cross-referenced. Sorted.
And there it was.
Sable Internal—Black Contract – Operative: Icarus. Location: Sector 12. Status: Active.
"I'm going after him."
Nova flinched. "It's a trap."
"I know."
"Then why—?"
"Because someone has to end this. And because if I wait, he'll come for me. For all of us."
Nova was silent for a long time.
Then she reached into her coat, pulled something out.
A photo.
A little girl—blonde, blue-eyed. Smiling.
"My sister. Her name was Mia. They took her three years ago. She was seven."
Ethan looked at her, really looked at her.
Nova's voice cracked. "You're not the only one who lost everything, Ethan. But maybe we can stop more of it from happening. Together."
He stared at the photo, then at her.
"I'm not good at… this," he said quietly.
"Neither am I."
And in the silence, for the first time, the air didn't feel so cold.
Meanwhile – Unknown Location
A man in a dark suit watched the burning warehouse footage play out on a holographic screen. A glass of red wine in his hand. The fire reflected in his eyes.
"He's accelerating faster than projected," a voice said behind him. "Too fast."
The man sipped. "Let him."
"He destroyed a sovereign cache. Rescued two children. The council won't like this."
"I don't serve the council."
A pause.
"Should I inform Icarus?"
The man smiled.
"No. Let Ethan come to him. The collapse must feel like his own choice."
He raised his glass, as the screen flickered to black.
"To the fall of a man."