Kaelen sat cross-legged on the floor of his apartment, the dim glow of the Krystals illuminating his face as he counted the stacks of cash he'd carefully set aside. Fifty thousand dollars—a hefty sum he'd gathered through the Krystal sale and some smaller, under-the-radar deals he'd orchestrated in the past week. This was the amount he'd need to get his hands on a plane, a used one, but serviceable enough to make it to the island the Voice had cryptically mentioned.
He carefully bundled the cash into a small duffel bag, double-checking that everything was in place. The website he'd found specialized in selling second-hand planes, mostly to independent contractors and small-time smugglers. This was no luxury aircraft, but it would get him where he needed to go without leaving a trail. For the first time in days, a sense of anticipation flickered within him. This was the first tangible step toward finding out the truth about his mother's inheritance, about who he truly was—and perhaps, what he was meant to become.
The Voice chuckled, low and ominous, as Kaelen stood up, tossing the duffel bag over his shoulder.
"Careful, Kaelen. People will start noticing you're making moves. They don't like people who slip through the cracks."
Kaelen only gave a slight nod in acknowledgment, stepping out of his apartment. His expression was as impassive as ever, but his senses were heightened, scanning his surroundings as he moved through the narrow alleys toward the rendezvous point. He kept to the shadows, his footsteps silent, maintaining an air of caution born from years of training.
The city buzzed with activity even in the late evening, neon signs casting an eerie glow over cracked pavement and graffiti-stained walls. He moved with purpose, blending into the urban tapestry, a ghost among ghosts. But even with all his skills and awareness, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone—or something—was following him.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. It was a sense he'd honed in the facility, a primal instinct that whispered to him when danger lurked close by. He subtly adjusted his grip on the duffel bag, his free hand flexing as he felt the itch to reach for his knife.
Then, he felt a shift in the air—a subtle change that was nearly imperceptible. His steps slowed as he passed a narrow alleyway. He sensed it before he saw them: the twins.
They emerged from the darkness, their identical faces etched with cold determination, each with a glint in their eyes that spoke of unfinished business. Kaelen took a slow, measured breath. Unlike last time, he was prepared, his body tensed with readiness, his mind a quiet storm of calculated brutality.
"Did you miss us?" one of the twins sneered, her eyes flashing with a spark of energy. A faint, crimson aura shimmered around her hands as she clenched her fists. Her sister mirrored her movements, an echo of violence simmering beneath their skin.
Kaelen's expression remained calm, unflinching. "I was hoping we wouldn't have to do this again," he muttered, more to himself than to them.
The twins circled him, their movements fluid and predatory, like a pair of wolves closing in on a wounded animal. But Kaelen wasn't wounded—not yet. And he wasn't about to give them that satisfaction.
With a burst of speed, one of the twins lunged forward, her fists crackling with raw energy as she swung at his face. Kaelen sidestepped smoothly, his reflexes sharp as he dodged, letting her momentum carry her past him. He pivoted, grabbing her by the back of the neck and slamming her face-first into the wall with a sickening crunch. Blood splattered across the concrete as she slumped to the ground, dazed but not down.
The other twin wasted no time, using her sister's distraction to her advantage. She charged at him from behind, her arm sweeping in a powerful arc, aiming to crack his ribs. But Kaelen twisted at the last second, her fist grazing his side as he retaliated with a brutal elbow strike to her jaw and a Raw Flying Knee to the Jaw again. She staggered back, spitting blood, her eyes narrowed in fury.
"Stay down," Kaelen warned, though he knew they wouldn't listen. He saw the hatred blazing in their eyes, the unyielding desire for vengeance. These weren't ordinary gangsters; they were enforcers, bred for combat, empowered by abilities that most people couldn't even comprehend. But Kaelen had trained his whole life for moments like this. He wasn't about to back down.
The first twin regained her balance, wiping blood from her split lip. She sneered, and in a flash, both of them lunged at him simultaneously, their attacks coordinated and relentless. They were a whirlwind of fists and energy blasts, a deadly dance of power and violence. Kaelen ducked, blocked, and countered, his movements precise and calculated.
He feinted left, drawing one twin in before driving his knee into her abdomen, the impact crushing the air from her lungs. She doubled over, and Kaelen didn't waste the opportunity. He brought his elbow down on the back of her neck, hearing the sickening crack of bone as she collapsed to the ground.
The remaining twin roared in fury, her hands igniting with a crimson glow as she unleashed a volley of energy blasts. Kaelen dove to the side, rolling to avoid the barrage. He sprang back to his feet, his gaze locked onto her. She charged him with reckless abandon, her fists blazing with raw power.
But Kaelen was faster. As she closed in, he ducked low, hitting her with an Upper cut and 2 combo jabs to the Face, than later grabbing her by the waist and lifting her off her feet. With a grunt of effort, he drove her down onto his knee, her spine bending with a sickening snap. She screamed, a raw, agonized sound that echoed through the alleyway.
He released her, letting her body slump to the ground beside her sister. Both twins lay still, broken and defeated, their breaths shallow, their faces contorted in pain. Kaelen stood over them, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath, his gaze cold and unfeeling.
He didn't linger. There was no time. He heard shouts from down the alley—other gang members rushing toward the commotion. He had no intention of getting pinned down, not now. Grabbing his duffel bag, he turned and sprinted, his movements swift and silent as he melted into the shadows, leaving the bloody scene behind.
---
He navigated the winding back alleys with the precision of a predator on the hunt, every sense heightened as he slipped away from the scene. He heard the sounds of footsteps and voices echoing from behind him, the gangsters closing in, but he stayed calm, moving with purpose.
Every now and then, he'd pause, waiting in the shadows, timing his movements to catch his pursuers off guard. One gangster rounded a corner, only to find Kaelen waiting for him. In an instant, Kaelen's hand shot out, grabbing the man's throat and pulling him into the darkness. He silenced him quickly, a brutal twist that left the man limp in his grasp before lowering him to the ground without a sound.
One by one, he picked them off, his movements calculated and ruthless. These men were armed, but they were no match for his skill, his relentless training honed through years of conditioning. In this urban jungle, Kaelen was a ghost, moving unseen, striking swiftly, and leaving no trace.
By the time he reached the edge of the alleyways, his path was clear. He'd evaded the last of the gangsters, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. His heart was steady, his mind focused as he continued on his way to the meeting point, the duffel bag still secure on his shoulder.
---
The plane buyer was a grizzled man in his late fifties, weathered by years of flying in and out of dangerous zones. His eyes narrowed as he watched Kaelen approach, taking in the younger man's disheveled appearance and the faint scent of blood that lingered around him.
"You got the cash?" the Seller asked, his tone gruff.
Kaelen nodded, unzipping the duffel bag and showing him the stacks of bills. The man whistled low, impressed but wary.
"Didn't think someone like you would be in the market for a plane. You know how to fly one?"
Kaelen's expression didn't change. "Just hand over the keys. You'll get your money."
The man hesitated, but the promise of cash outweighed his suspicions. He handed Kaelen the keys, his gaze lingering for a moment as though sizing him up one last time.
Kaelen handed over the cash, securing the deal with a firm nod. This was it—the first step toward his journey, the escape route that would lead him to answers. He didn't know what awaited him on that island, but he knew it was time to confront the mysteries that had haunted him his entire life.