The scene unfolds quickly beneath the quiet night sky.
Stars twinkle faintly overhead, and the world seems to hold its breath as four black cars are parked at the corners of Cameron's neighborhood. The tension is palpable in the air, a silent pulse beneath the stillness of the street.
Each car is stationed like a predator waiting for its prey, and near each, agents are standing in tactical gear, black leather uniforms blending into the night. Their eyes are sharp, every muscle tense, hands clutching guns as if ready to spring into action at any moment.
Agent Harris is standing at one of the cars, his face set with determination, fingers brushing the receiver of his walkie-talkie.
Across the street, Agent Carter holds a similar stance, her face equally unreadable in the dim streetlight.
Harris presses the walkie-talkie, his voice low and steady. "Team B, C, and D, report in."
Carter echoes into her walkie-talkie, "Team B, ready."
Other voices come through it, "Team C, ready" "Team D, ready,"
A brief moment of stillness passes an eerie calm before the inevitable storm.
Harris's voice comes again, a fraction more urgent this time. "All teams, we move in. Neutralize the target, then pull out. No mistakes."
A chorus of confirmation crackles back through the devices. "Understood."
Harris takes a breath. His eyes flicker to the house in the distance, its silhouette calm and still against the dark backdrop. He knows what's inside—the target and his family, blissfully unaware of the storm about to break. His voice hardens as he gives the final command. "Move in."
Like shadows, the teams begin to move, their figures slipping through the night with precision. The street remains silent, but the tension has grown thicker, a thrumming force of anticipation.
Harris leads Team A to the front of the house, his breath measured as they close in. Carter moves with Team B to the back, her eyes darting between the windows, ensuring no movement goes unnoticed. The other teams spread to the flanks, securing the perimeter.
As they approach the house, the agents form a ring, every exit covered.
Harris speaks softly into his radio, "Team A in position."
"Team B, ready," Carter whispers from the rear.
The other teams respond, "C and D in position."
Harris tightens his grip on his gun. "On my signal… go."
One of Harris' agents kicks the front door open with a crash that shatters the quiet. Harris moves in swiftly, his gun is raised and steady.
"Move, move!" he whispers to his team. They fan out, their footsteps echoing through the small house, heavy with tension. Every shadow seems to stretch toward them, every creak of the floor a potential threat.
In the bedroom, Cameron's heart skips a beat at the sudden noise. He was sitting beside his wife and Emily is lying on the small bed.
At the noise, Cameron's instincts scream danger, and he rushes to grab the nearest object, a knife, his hands trembling as he tries to make sense of what's happening.
He turns to his daughter, Emily, and his wife. "Emily, get behind me," he orders, his voice barely steady. "There's someone in the house."
Emily, wide-eyed, scrambles to her mother's side, clutching her in fear. They huddle together as Cameron takes a shaky breath, stepping in front of them with the knife held defensively in his hand.
Harris' footsteps draw closer. With a heavy thud, he kicks open the bedroom door, his gun trained on Cameron immediately.
"Get down, hands in the air." His voice is a sharp bark in the tension-filled room. The agents behind him move in, their guns trained on the family, creating a suffocating atmosphere of threat and power.
Cameron raises his hands slowly, dropping the knife to the ground with a soft clatter. "Don't shoot… please," he whispers, his eyes filled with terror as he shields his family behind him.
"On the ground, now!" Harris commands, taking a step forward, gun unwavering.
Cameron, trembling, slowly lowers himself to his knees, his eyes darting between the agents and his family. Harris wastes no time, moving in to cuff him swiftly, securing his hands behind his back. "Target restrained," he mutters into his radio.
More agents flood the room; the air gets thick with fear and confusion. Emily clings to her mother, their faces pale and wide-eyed, terror radiating from their trembling bodies. The silence in the room is broken only by the heavy breathing of the family and the occasional crackle of radio static.
Then, Agent Carter steps in, her face unreadable, but her eyes cold as they lock onto Cameron. She strides forward, her presence commanding.
"Mr. Cameron," she begins, her voice low but firm, "I'm going to ask you once. Tell us everything you know about the mysterious man you were with last night."
Cameron's face goes white, his heart pounding in his chest. "We… we don't know anything about him," he stammers, his voice trembling. "Please, we don't know."
Carter narrows her eyes, "Don't play games with me, Cameron. You and your daughter were seen with that man. He's dangerous. What were you doing with him?" Her tone grows sharper, cutting through the air like a blade.
Cameron shakes his head desperately, his eyes wide with fear. "I swear, we don't know! He… he just appeared! We didn't… we didn't ask for this."
Carter's lips curl into a sneer. "You expect me to believe that?" She steps closer, her gun raised slightly, a subtle reminder of the power she holds. "Last chance, Cameron. Tell me what you know, or this will end badly for you."
Emily, seeing her father under threat, can't hold back. She trembles as she steps forward slightly, her voice small but desperate. "Please, don't hurt him," she begs, her eyes pleading. "He just… wanted to experiment… on Dad."
Carter's gaze snaps to Emily, narrowing. "Experiment?" she repeats, her tone sharp with interest. "What kind of experiment?"
Emily hesitates, glancing nervously at her father before continuing in a whisper. "His legs… they were broken."
Carter scoffs, her eyes flicking to Cameron. "Don't be ridiculous. He's walking just fine."
Emily shakes her head frantically. "No, he couldn't walk before. The man… he healed him."
The room falls silent for a heartbeat. Harris and Carter exchange a glance, shock flickering in their eyes. Harris' voice is low, incredulous. "Healed… his legs?"
Emily's voice shakes as she repeats, louder this time, "He healed him. He regrew his legs."
The agents are stunned. Carter's face hardens as she turns back to Cameron, stepping forward and pressing the muzzle of her gun against his temple. "Tell me everything," she demands, her voice a dangerous whisper. "Who is he? Where can we find him? How did he do it?"
Cameron, shaking uncontrollably, repeats, "We don't know anything! Please, believe me, we don't know!"
Harris steps forward, his fist slamming into Cameron's side. "You're lying!" he snarls. "Tell us what you know!"
Cameron gasps in pain but remains silent, his body curling inward as he tries to protect himself from the next blow. Harris raises his hand again, but Emily's voice cuts through the tension, desperate and loud. "Wait! Please, don't hurt him!"
Carter's gaze shifts to the girl. "Speak. Now."
Emily, stammering, her voice barely audible, says, "We don't know anything... he is coming back tonight."
Carter freezes. Her eyes widen as she quickly presses the button on her radio. "Director Lewis," she says, urgency seeping into her tone, "requesting permission to use non-lethal weapons. The target will be here tonight. We need to set up an ambush."
The response crackles through immediately. "Permission granted."
Carter's eyes flick to Harris. "Prepare the ambush, now. We don't know when he'll show up. We need to be ready."
Harris nods his face tight with focus. "On it." He gestures to his team. "Everyone, outside. Get into position. We need to move fast."
As the team files out, Harris stays behind for a moment, eyes scanning the room, ensuring everything is set before following them out.
The atmosphere outside shifts into one of frantic preparation. Harris begins issuing orders, his voice calm but hurried. "Spread out, cover all exits. No one gets in or out without my signal. And keep your eyes sharp—we don't know what this guy can do."
Agents scramble to their positions, taking cover in the shadows and setting up tactical points around the house. One agent remains inside with the family, his gun trained on them as a precaution.
Meanwhile, across the city, Ren, dressed as an Incubi, stands by his window, the night sky reflected in his eyes. Unaware of the danger awaiting him, he takes a breath, ready to go out.