Every single emergency call center was a storm of noise and urgency. Phones rang relentlessly, voices layered over one another in a chaotic symphony of panic. Dispatchers scrambled to interpret the flood of reports, many of which sounded impossible, even in the face of the city's growing disaster.
"Building collapse at 14th and Main—civilians trapped under rubble! Send all available units!"
"Explosion reported at Grand Station! Fire crews are delayed—something's blocking the streets!"
"Wait—what do you mean an entire coffee shop's gone? Like, disappeared? Can anyone verify this?"
Operators exchanged bewildered glances, their faces pale. The city was unraveling faster than anyone could understand, and the professionals trained to handle crises were now facing something unprecedented: a disaster not only physical but also surreal.
Lieutenant Erin Vega wiped sweat from her brow as Engine 12 barreled down the road, sirens blaring. Even through the truck's closed windows, the acrid tang of smoke clung to the air. The distant glow of flames reflected off glassy skyscrapers, painting an ominous picture of a city in turmoil.
"We've had big fires before," said Gage, the rookie seated beside her, his voice trembling. "But nothing like this, right?"
"Keep your head on straight," Vega snapped, though her hands gripped the seat tighter than usual. "We're here to save lives. Focus on that."
The radio crackled: "Engine 12, be advised—multiple civilians trapped in a collapse at 22nd and Harbor. Structure unstable. Proceed with caution."
"Got it," Vega responded, her voice steady. She turned to her team. "You heard the call. When we get there, we move fast, we move smart. Watch for falling debris. This building's gonna come down sooner or later."
As the truck screeched to a halt, Vega surveyed the scene. Half the building had crumbled into a jagged heap of concrete and steel. Civilians screamed, pointing toward the wreckage where faint cries for help could still be heard.
"Alright, team, let's go!" Vega yelled, grabbing her gear.
The crew moved with practiced precision, clearing rubble and stabilizing precarious walls as best they could. But the chaos of the scene soon revealed itself in ways none of them expected.
Gage froze mid-task, staring at a massive steel beam blocking their path. "Uh, Lieutenant? I think I can move this."
"Not without tools, you can't," Vega shot back, but Gage didn't listen.
He reached out and gripped the beam, his arms suddenly glowing faintly. With a grunt, he lifted it clear off the ground, tossing it aside like it weighed nothing.
"What the—" Vega started but cut herself off. There wasn't time for questions.
"Good job, rookie," she said instead, masking her disbelief. "Keep it up."
Around her, the strangeness grew. Captain Ray Johnson stabilized a crumbling wall with one hand, his body glowing with a faint aura of strength. A medic crouched beside an injured civilian, her hands emitting a soft light that visibly knitted broken skin back together.
The world was changing, and Vega's team was changing with it.
By the time they arrived at Grand Station, the devastation was unlike anything they had seen before. The station, once a bustling hub of trains and commuters, was now a smoldering ruin. Twisted steel beams jutted into the sky, and a massive crater yawned where the central platform had been.
Vega stepped cautiously through the debris, the heat from scattered fires pressing against her skin even through her protective gear. "Search and rescue, spread out!" she commanded, her voice cutting through the chaos.
The fires burned hotter than anything they'd encountered before. Even high-pressure hoses seemed ineffective, the water evaporating before it touched the flames.
"What's fueling this?" Gage muttered, shielding his face as he retreated from the inferno.
"Keep looking for survivors," Vega barked, though she shared his unease.
As the team combed through the wreckage, a figure emerged from the flames. It was a man, his body wreathed in fire that clung to him like a second skin. He stumbled forward, his eyes wild and unfocused.
"Sir! Stop!" Vega called, raising her hands in what she hoped was a calming gesture. "We're here to help!"
But the man didn't seem to hear her. He took another step before collapsing to the ground, the flames around him dimming but not extinguishing.
Vega hesitated, then waved for the medics. "Careful with him. We don't know what we're dealing with."
As they worked to move him to safety, more strange occurrences unfolded. Volunteers clearing debris began to exhibit abilities of their own—a man raised his hand, and chunks of concrete floated into the air, seemingly guided by an invisible force. Another moved through the wreckage untouched, her body shimmering like a mirage.
"Do you see this?" Gage whispered, his voice tinged with awe and fear.
"Yeah," Vega muttered. "And I don't know what it means. But we keep moving."
When the call came in about the missing coffee shop, Vega's first thought was that it had to be a joke. But as Engine 12 pulled up to the scene, it became clear that this was no prank.
The lot where the shop had stood was pristine, as if nothing had ever been there. The ground was smooth and undisturbed, with no rubble, no burn marks—nothing.
"What do you mean it's gone?" Captain Johnson asked the responding officer.
"Exactly that," the officer replied, his voice shaky. "Witnesses say it just…collapsed inward and disappeared."
"And the people inside?" Vega pressed.
"No sign of them," the officer said. "It's like they were erased."
Vega knelt, running her hand over the smooth asphalt. It felt impossibly cold, sending a shiver up her spine.
As she stood, the ground beneath her rumbled. A low hum vibrated in the air, growing louder by the second.
"Back up!" Vega yelled, but before anyone could react, a pulse of energy erupted from the ground, knocking everyone off their feet.
When Vega looked up, she saw a figure standing at the edge of the lot. They were cloaked in smoke, their features obscured, but there was no mistaking their presence. They lingered for a moment, watching, before vanishing as suddenly as they had appeared.
"What was that?" Gage asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't know," Vega replied, her throat dry. "But it's not over."
By the end of the week, the government had stepped in to restore order. Military convoys rolled through the streets, their presence imposing and undeniable. Soldiers directed civilians to makeshift shelters set up in arenas and stadiums, their commands sharp and unyielding.
"Attention, citizens!" boomed a voice over a loudspeaker. "For your safety, proceed to the nearest shelter. Failure to comply will result in detainment."
Inside one of the shelters, Vega sat with her team, watching as crowds shuffled forward, their faces etched with exhaustion and fear. Soldiers with glowing hands moved among them, maintaining order with eerie efficiency.
"They've got powers too," Gage said, his voice low.
"Looks like it," Vega replied.
A commander stepped forward, addressing the crowd. "Order will be restored. Your abilities will be cataloged, and those deemed dangerous will be contained. Please remain calm and cooperate."
The words sent a chill through Vega. Cataloged. Contained. She glanced at her team, wondering how long it would be before their powers drew the same scrutiny.
As the shelter settled into a tense quiet, Vega spotted a group of children playing in a corner. One of them waved a hand, and a small orb of light appeared, dancing like a firefly.
For the first time in days, Vega allowed herself a small smile. The world was changing, but maybe there was still hope.