Ethan descended through the maintenance hatch, his breath shallow, each motion deliberate to avoid noise.
The narrow ladder groaned under his weight, and every scrape of metal against metal set his nerves on edge.
The confined space reeked of oil, damp metal, and something faintly chemical.
As he moved downward, flashes of disjointed memories flared in his mind: blurred faces, screams, and a sense of loss so profound it nearly froze him in place.
Who am I running from? he thought, gripping the ladder tightly. And why does it feel like I've done this before?
Flashes of blurred faces and broken memories surged forward—smiles, tears, then screams.
A jolt of fear lanced through him as boots scuffed closer. He shoved the memories aside and bolted, his body moving before his mind could decide.
The hatch led to a dimly lit utility room filled with pipes, control panels, and buzzing fluorescent lights.
The hum of machinery filled the space, steady and oppressive, like a heartbeat. Ethan's footsteps echoed faintly as he moved deeper, scanning for any exit.
But before he could orient himself, the rhythmic thrum of rotor blades reverberated through the walls, and his stomach sank.
The Bureau of Enhanced Security was closing in.
....
High above, sleek black helicopters hovered like carrion birds. Inside the lead chopper, Commander Lira Cade reviewed the live feed of Ethan's descent.
Her visor displayed surveillance footage: Ethan darting through hallways, evading capture with movements too precise to be ordinary.
She leaned forward, her tone sharp.
"Unregistered enhanced. No known affiliations. Someone erased this man, and not just from our systems—from everywhere."
Her team of operatives sat in silence, their armor gleaming under the cabin lights.
Each soldier was augmented for a specific role: enhanced reflexes, strength, sensory acuity. They were tools of precision, and Cade wielded them without hesitation.
"Containment is priority one," she said coldly. "Alive is mandatory. Intact is preferable. Move out."
......
Back in the utility room, Ethan pressed himself into the shadows, every muscle tensed.
The sound of boots echoed faintly above him, growing louder. Then came the hiss of a door opening.
His pulse quickened as two operatives entered, their sleek combat suits reflecting the pale light. Their visors glowed faintly, scanning the room with eerie precision.
"Surrender," one barked, his voice distorted through a modulated filter. "You're surrounded."
Ethan stayed silent, his mind racing. He clenched the letter opener he'd grabbed earlier, though it felt pitifully inadequate.
When the first operative lunged, something inside him snapped. His body moved on instinct, and his fist connected with the soldier's chest.
The impact was explosive. The operative was flung backward, slamming into the wall with enough force to leave a crater.
Ethan froze, staring at his hand. How did I—
Another soldier charged, baton raised. Ethan ducked, his movements impossibly fast, and drove an elbow into his ribs.
The operative crumpled, the baton clattering to the ground. The noise seemed to shatter the tension in the room. Chaos erupted.
More operatives poured in, their coordination flawless. Ethan dodged a stun charge, the crackling bolt striking a pipe behind him and sending steam hissing into the air.
He grabbed the nearest soldier by the arm, twisting it sharply before throwing him into a control panel. Sparks erupted, casting frantic shadows across the room.
Ethan's body moved like a machine, every strike precise and devastating. He didn't know where these skills came from, but they flowed through him like second nature.
Ethan's fists collided with armored bodies, his strikes too fast and too precise to feel like his own.
Each impact reverberated through his body, a mixture of satisfaction and dread. How am I doing this?
The questions piled up, threatening to overwhelm him even as his body refused to stop.
When he flung an operative into the air, sending them crashing through a wall, a jarring thought chilled his spine.
Am I even human anymore?
Another soldier's baton swung toward his head, and he caught it mid-swing, the energy crackling against his palm.
With a roar, he wrenched it away and drove it into the soldier's chest, sending them sprawling into a cluster of pipes.
The fight spilled out of the utility room.
Walls crumbled as bodies were hurled through them, the reinforced structure groaning under the strain. Ethan's movements became more feral, his strikes more brutal.
He vaulted over debris, dodging and countering with a speed that seemed almost supernatural.
Before he could catch his breath, a heavy body collided with him, driving him through the fragile partition.
The wall crumbled under their combined weight, and Ethan hit the floor of the maintenance corridor hard, the sharp sting of metal scraping his palms.
He clawed his way upright, shaking off the disorientation from the last blow. But before he could stabilize, another operative slammed into him with the force of a freight train.
He felt the crack of the wall behind him just as his body broke through, shards of concrete raining down.
The world tilted as they fell. Ethan's back hit something solid, the air rushing from his lungs. Then the cold, damp surface of asphalt met his hands and knees.
The city stretched around him, alive with distant car horns and the hum of electricity. His breathing was ragged as he staggered upright, surrounded by operatives.
.......
"End of the line," one soldier growled, his weapon aimed at him.
Ethan's fists clenched, his mind desperate for an escape. He felt a strange pull in his chest, like a cord being tightened.
The operatives formed a semi-circle, weapons aimed at him. Ethan's chest heaved, his fists clenched.
He was cornered, and every fiber of his being screamed to fight. But something inside him stirred—a deeper, rawer instinct.
The world around him seemed to shift, the edges of reality blurring like a heat haze. Immediately, one of the operatives shot at him.
Time slowed.
The bullet froze mid-air, vibrating violently before disintegrating into a cascade of shimmering light.
The world rippled. Walls bent and twisted like liquid. The rain seemed to hang in the air, each droplet refracting light in impossible ways.
Ethan clutched his head, the sensation overwhelming. He didn't understand what he was doing, only that he was doing it. Reality itself seemed to warp around him, bending to his will.
Ethan felt a pull in his chest, a strange, thrumming energy that resonated with the world around him.
His mind raced with fragmented memories—a sterile lab, voices arguing, machines humming.
Quantum stabilization... dangerous...
The operatives hesitated, their weapons faltering. But the power was unstable.
A pulse of energy erupted from him, invisible but undeniable. The operatives were flung back as though struck by a hurricane.
Vehicles skidded, streetlights flickered and sparked, and windows shattered up and down the block.
The ripple extended beyond his control, warping everything it touched. A parked car crumpled as if crushed by an invisible hand.
A nearby storefront imploded, shards of glass raining onto the street. Ethan's chest tightened as he heard the scream.
A young woman lay crumpled on the sidewalk, her lifeless eyes staring at the rain-soaked sky. The realization hit him like a freight train. He had done this.
Ethan fell to his knees, the energy dissipating as quickly as it had come. The operatives, battered but alive, began to stir.
The street was chaos—smoke rising from crushed vehicles, debris scattered across the asphalt. The city's hum had been replaced by the wail of distant sirens.
Ethan's hands trembled as he looked at the destruction around him. His breath came in ragged gasps, his mind reeling.
He saw flashes—a lab engulfed in flames, screaming faces, a voice whispering, "You're too dangerous."
Ethan stumbled, his vision swimming. He looked down at his hands, which glowed faintly with an iridescent light before dimming.
The weight in his chest had lessened, but the cost of his outburst was evident.
"No," he whispered, horrified. The warped reality settled, leaving devastation in its wake.
The woman lay motionless, and the operatives began to recover, their weapons trained on him once more.
Guilt and fear clawed at Ethan's mind. I did this. I hurt her. I…killed her.
The sight of the woman's lifeless body sent a sharp jolt through Ethan's mind.
Images flashed—faces he didn't recognize, screams, a laboratory bathed in sterile white light. His knees buckled as fragments of his past clawed their way forward.
"What have I done?" he murmured, trembling. His hands, stained with rain and guilt, clenched into fists
For a moment, he considered surrendering, letting the government take him. Maybe they could stop whatever he was becoming.
However, almost instinctively, he turned and ran, his enhanced speed carrying him into the depths of the city. And no one of the operatives chased after him.
Rain pelted his face as he disappeared into the night, the cries of the injured and the crackle of radios fading behind him. Guilt burned in his chest, but survival screamed louder.
I don't know who I am, he thought, but I can't let them find out either.
Ethan backed into the alley, his body trembling. Sirens wailed in the distance, and the faint hum of helicopters returned, circling like vultures.
He stared at his hands, flexing them as rain dripped down his face. "I'm dangerous," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I should... I should let them take me."
But then the flash of a scalpel, the cold grip of restraints, and the sterile light of a lab flooded his mind again. A deep, primal fear gripped him.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "Not again."