The earth manipulator stood at the edge of the canyon, his hands still outstretched toward the rapidly retreating jet. Sweat dripped down his temple, pooling at his collar, but he didn't drop his arms. Not yet. His chest heaved with every breath as he summoned another surge of energy, pulling the very bedrock upward into jagged spires that reached for the sky.
But it was no use. The jet was too high now, its silhouette disappearing into the thick cloud cover. The roar of its engines faded, leaving only the sound of wind whistling through the canyon and the distant groan of crumbling stone.
He lowered his arms slowly, the adrenaline draining from his body, leaving a dull ache in its place. His hands trembled—not from exertion, but from frustration.
"They got away," he muttered under his breath, his voice low and dangerous.
Behind him, the faint crackle of a communicator sprang to life. A voice came through, calm and commanding. "Stand down, Riven. They're out of range."
Riven—his code name, though he despised it—gritted his teeth. "I can still catch them. Give me the order, and I'll tear that jet from the sky."
"Negative," the voice replied, firm and final. "Your mission was to secure the facility and protect the asset. Chasing them now jeopardizes both."
Riven clenched his fists, the ground beneath his feet shifting subtly in response to his anger. "The facility is compromised, and the asset is gone. What's the point of holding back now?"
"The point," the voice said, slow and deliberate, "is that you do as you're told. Return to the command post. Reinforcements will arrive shortly."
The line went dead before Riven could respond.
He stared at the communicator in his hand, his jaw tightening. His gaze shifted back to the canyon below, where the wreckage of their defenses lay scattered like broken toys. Smoke curled from the ruins of the comms tower, and craters marred the once-smooth surface of the canyon floor.
"They should've been ours," he growled, kicking a loose rock over the edge. It tumbled down, disappearing into the shadows below.
His mind replayed the escape in vivid detail. The girl with the sword, her movements impossibly fast, cutting through his men like a storm. The behemoth with the heavy gauntlets, shrugging off attacks as if they were nothing. And the man with the sparking gloves—his lightning had nearly brought Riven to his knees.
They were skilled, yes. But they shouldn't have escaped him.
He flexed his fingers, feeling the familiar hum of his power thrumming beneath his skin. The earth was his to command, and yet, for the first time in a long time, it hadn't been enough.
Riven turned away from the canyon, his boots crunching against the gravel. He moved toward what remained of the facility, his shoulders squared, his expression unreadable. The air around him seemed to vibrate, a subtle reminder of the power he carried.
As he approached the ruins, a group of his subordinates scrambled to their feet, their faces pale and nervous. One of them—a wiry man with a nasty cut across his brow—stepped forward hesitantly.
"Sir... what are your orders?"
Riven didn't answer immediately. His eyes scanned the wreckage, his jaw tight. Finally, he spoke, his voice cold and measured. "Secure what's left. Make sure no one else gets in—or out."
The man nodded quickly, signaling the others to begin.
Riven stood still, watching them work, his thoughts elsewhere.
He would follow orders, for now. But this wasn't over. He had seen the girl's face, the determination in her eyes as she fought her way to the jet. He had felt the weight of their teamwork, their precision. They were more than just agents—they were dangerous.
And next time, Riven thought, clenching his fists until the stones around him began to tremble, they wouldn't get away so easily.
——
The jet's cabin hummed softly as it soared through the night sky, a stark contrast to the chaos they had just left behind. Volt slumped into one of the seats near the cockpit, sparks still flickering faintly from his gloves as he muttered under his breath. Tank, barely fitting into the cramped space, was busy wrapping a bandage around a shallow gash on his forearm, his movements deliberate but clumsy with his oversized hands.
She, on the other hand, was pacing. Her blade had long since retracted into its nano-sheath, but the adrenaline was still coursing through her veins. She cast a glance at Volt, who was staring out the window with an intense frown.
"You gonna glare at the sky until it apologizes?" she quipped, crossing her arms.
Volt didn't look at her. "Just making sure we don't have any surprise guests trailing us. That earth manipulator was a bit...persistent."
Tank let out a booming laugh, breaking the tension. "Persistent? That guy was raising mountains under our feet. You call that persistent, I call it downright stubborn."
"Yeah, well, stubborn almost got us killed," Volt shot back, finally turning to her. "And you! You had to take your sweet time in the cell block, didn't you?"
Her eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me? I was busy saving Dagger while you were out there playing Pikachu with the guards."
"Pikachu?" Volt repeated, a spark crackling as his frustration grew.
"You know," she continued, smirking, "shooting electricity everywhere, making cute little zappy noises."
Tank burst out laughing, the sound reverberating through the cabin. "She's got you there, Volt."
Volt's glare intensified, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "You're lucky I'm too tired to come up with a better comeback."
"Lucky?" she said, her smirk growing. "I think it's more that your brain just short-circuited. Happens to the best of us."
"Okay, okay," Tank interrupted, holding up a hand the size of a dinner plate. "Before this turns into a full-blown roast session, let's focus on the fact that we're all still breathing. That's a win, right?"
She plopped into a seat across from Volt, finally letting her body relax. Tank resumed, "But seriously, who was that guy? Earth manipulators aren't exactly common."
Volt shrugged. "Probably one of their higher-ups. The fact that they sent someone like that means they weren't playing around."
"Higher-up or not, I still don't get how we made it out," Tank said, shaking his head. "That guy was relentless."
She tilted her head, looking at Volt. "Speaking of making it out...what was with you mumbling 'hurry up, hurry up' like a prayer back there?"
Volt's cheeks flushed slightly. "I wasn't mumbling."
"Oh, you were mumbling," she teased, leaning forward. "You were full-on chanting by the time Tank finally got on board."
Tank grinned. "She's not wrong. I thought you were gonna light the jet on fire from how worked up you were."
Volt rolled his eyes, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. "Well, excuse me for being concerned about making it out alive."
She leaned back, smirking. "Don't worry, Volt. Next time, I'll make sure to leave you a little more time for your pre-flight freakout."
Before Volt could respond, Dagger stirred in his seat, groaning softly as he shifted position. All three turned to look at him, their banter momentarily forgotten.
Tank leaned over, his large frame almost blocking Dagger from view. "How you holding up, kid?"
Dagger blinked a few times, his gaze still unfocused. "Alive...thanks to you guys."
"Don't thank us yet," Volt muttered. "We've still got a debrief waiting for us when we land. And knowing PS, it's not gonna be a short one."
She sighed, rubbing her temples. "Great. Just what I needed—another lecture about teamwork and efficiency."
"Hey," Tank said, grinning, "at least you'll have Volt to blame for everything."
"Blame?" Volt exclaimed, sitting up straighter. "Why me?"
"Because it's fun," she said, flashing a cheeky grin.
Tank chuckled, patting Volt on the back—hard enough to make him wince. "Don't take it personally, Volt. We're all just glad to be heading home in one piece."
As the jet continued its smooth flight back to HQ, the tension from the mission slowly began to dissipate. For now, at least, they could afford a moment of levity. But deep down, they all knew the questions—and challenges—waiting for them upon their return.