The next few days passed in a blur.
I couldn't shake the words Alexis Mercer had left me with. Helix. The organization that claimed to control and shape metahuman power. They weren't a bunch of capes fighting crime; they were more like a shadow group, focused on ensuring that power wasn't wasted. And they wanted me. To join them. To learn from them. To become something more.
And all I could think about was that moment—my first taste of real power. The heat vision. The strength. The speed. The way the ground had cracked under my boots, the shockwaves rippling from my every move. It was addictive. There was nothing quite like it. It felt like I was on the edge of something huge, something that could change everything. But I needed more.
Alexis had said it herself: control. That was the missing piece. I had the power, but I wasn't wielding it the right way. My first encounter with the Inner Circle? Easy. But that was nothing compared to the real threats out there. And what good was raw power if I was just using it recklessly? So I'd have to make a choice. Join Helix and learn how to control my abilities—or keep stumbling through the world, making enemies without understanding the consequences.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that there were no easy answers. In a world like this, there was always a price to pay for power.
I hadn't decided whether to accept Alexis's offer yet, but that didn't stop things from escalating. Power attracts attention. It's a simple truth, and it doesn't take long for the world to take notice.
I was flying through the city, my mind still reeling, when the alarms began to blare. A strange signal. It was like a buzzing in my ears, sending a chill down my spine. I didn't recognize it at first, but it was familiar—like the way a thunderstorm might feel before it hits.
I followed the signal, tracing it through the skyline until I landed on a rooftop just in time to witness a full-scale attack.
A group of people in black combat suits were descending on Metropolis with a terrifying purpose. They were fast, efficient, like a military strike team—but they weren't here for any typical robbery or hostage situation. No, these men and women were here for something much worse.
A gigantic robot—no, machine—stood at the center of the street, its weapons aimed at civilians and nearby buildings. It had the sleek, terrifying look of a high-tech weapon designed for one purpose: destruction. It was so large, its sheer mass blocked out the sun as it towered over the city.
And it wasn't alone.
The combat team was making its way toward the machine, planting explosives on the edges of a nearby building, clearing a path for whatever they were doing. There were no ordinary criminals in sight, either. No, this was something organized, something on a much larger scale.
This wasn't random.
I needed to know what was going on. I wasn't about to just let this city be torn apart.
Without a second thought, I soared toward the center of the chaos, my body cutting through the air at breakneck speed. As I approached, I could feel the wind screaming against me, and in the distance, I saw the team making their move.
The lead soldier, a tall figure with a cybernetic arm, turned toward me as I landed with a crash, the concrete splintering under my boots. The others froze, weapons at the ready, but it was the soldier's expression that stopped me in my tracks.
Recognition.
He had seen me before.
I'd never met him, but the look in his eyes was unmistakable. He knew who I was.
"Well, well. Look who decided to show up," the soldier said, voice steady, calculating. "The new player in town. The one with Homelander's power."
His words hit me like a slap to the face. Homelander's power.
I had only felt a fraction of what he could do. I hadn't even scratched the surface. But the fact that someone else knew who I was—and what I could do—meant something.
"Who the hell are you?" I demanded, my voice rising with a mixture of curiosity and anger.
"We're a part of an organization you don't want to mess with," the soldier replied, his tone icy. "We're called Echelon. And you, kid, are in our way."
I wasn't sure what to make of that. Echelon. I'd never heard of them, but they were clearly organized. And now they were targeting me.
The moment the words left his mouth, the massive machine behind him roared to life, its mechanical legs taking a step forward with a grinding, metal shriek. It had all kinds of weaponry—blasters, missiles, energy cannons, the works. It was clear they weren't here just to take down Metropolis. They were here for me.
"Get out of the way, kid," the soldier called again. "Or we'll be forced to deal with you, too."
I looked back at the machine, the threat clear. I could take out the soldiers, no problem. But that thing? It was on another level entirely.
I clenched my fists. This wasn't just a simple fight. They had something. Something I didn't understand yet.
"Alright," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Let's see what you've got."
I surged forward, using my super speed to close the distance in a split second. I aimed a punch at the soldier's face, but he was ready. His cybernetic arm shot out, blocking my strike with a sharp clang. The impact sent a shockwave through my body, but I barely flinched.
He wasn't human. Not entirely. The force of his mechanical arm was strong enough to rattle my bones, but it didn't slow me down.
I didn't wait. Instead, I spun around, launching myself into the air to avoid his next move. From above, I aimed my heat vision directly at the massive machine.
The laser beam shot out, striking its chest with an explosion of energy. The machine groaned but didn't go down. It was tougher than I had expected—designed to withstand attacks from high-powered metahumans like me.
That's when the rest of Echelon's forces opened fire. Bullets ricocheted off my body, and explosions erupted around me, but none of them even made me flinch. I turned, firing another wave of heat vision at the soldiers, but they scattered, staying out of range.
The machine shifted its stance, now aiming a missile launcher at me. I darted through the air, dodging the missiles with ease, but they kept coming, faster and more accurate than I'd anticipated.
I wasn't just fighting for the city now. I was fighting to protect myself. They were testing me. Pushing me. Trying to figure out how far I could go.
This wasn't a test of strength anymore.
I realized then that this fight wasn't just about power. It was about survival. I had made an enemy of someone—or something—bigger than I had imagined.
And I had no idea how far they'd go to break me.