The police station buzzed with chaos as Cain was led inside. The air was thick with the stench of sweat and alcohol. Shouts and curses echoed from every direction—petty thieves, drunks, and gang members all crowded the holding cells.
Yet despite the noise, there was an unnerving sense of control, like the iron fist of the system never loosened its grip.
The female officer guided Cain through the crowded halls, her sharp gaze cutting through the mayhem. Cain followed her quietly, his unease growing with every step. She stopped at a private room and gestured for him to enter.
"Wait here," she said briskly, her voice devoid of warmth.
Cain sat down, his body tense. Moments later, a technician wheeled in a device—a compact machine with a glowing interface. The officer explained, "Standard procedure. We're testing your evolution energy level to ensure you're not a threat. Nothing personal."
Cain's mind raced. He didn't like the sound of this, but there was no room for refusal. He placed his hand on the scanner as instructed. A faint hum filled the air, and within seconds, the results displayed on the screen.
The officer's brow furrowed slightly. "Hmm. Higher than usual," she muttered under her breath, giving Cain a wary look.
She stepped out of the room, leaving Cain alone. Through the one-way glass, he could see her discussing something with a higher-ranking officer, their faces tense. Cain clenched his fists, his unease morphing into dread.
"What if they know who I am?" The thought rattled in his mind. "What if they're just playing along, waiting to send me back to Black Mountain?"
He couldn't shake the suspicion. These officers might already know he was a fugitive. The fear of returning to that hellhole made his stomach churn. He glanced at the marks on his Totem, recalling the two that had dimmed. One mark remained, a silent reminder of the life-and-death price he'd already paid twice.
"What happens if I use the last one?" Cain wondered. "Will I die for real? Or... something worse?"
Minutes felt like hours before a new figure entered the room. He was tall, sharp-featured, and dressed immaculately in a sleek black uniform. The badge on his chest identified him as "Officer Baiden."
"I'm Officer Baiden," he introduced himself, his tone formal but probing. "Let's start with your name."
Cain answered cautiously, crafting a story in his mind. He claimed to be an orphan from the slums, a background conveniently explaining his lack of identification. It was a plausible lie—many from the slums lacked proper registration.
Baiden nodded, seemingly satisfied with the explanation, but his piercing eyes suggested he wasn't entirely convinced. He leaned forward, his voice taking on a sterner edge.
"Our initial test shows your evolution energy level is... abnormal. High, even. That means you're either already an Evolver or have the potential to be one. Standard procedure requires us to detain you for further observation and investigation into your background. Once we confirm everything checks out, you'll be free to go."
Cain stiffened. "How long will that take?"
Baiden shrugged nonchalantly. "Could be a day, maybe three. Depends on the workload."
The time frame wasn't Cain's concern. What truly scared him was the possibility of a deeper investigation uncovering his ties to Black Mountain Prison. His pulse quickened as he considered his options.
Baiden must have sensed Cain's growing anxiety. He leaned back in his chair, gesturing subtly toward the camera in the corner. The red light blinked off, indicating the feed had been cut. When Baiden spoke again, his tone was quieter but carried a conspiratorial weight.
"Listen," Baiden began, "I don't care who you are. The initial scan says you're clean. That's enough for me. But my superiors? They're less flexible."
Cain narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying," Baiden continued, "we can skip the red tape if you're willing to do me a favor."
Cain folded his arms. "What kind of favor?"
Baiden smirked, the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes. "There's a... package I need you to retrieve. It's currently in the possession of someone who shouldn't have it—a thug named Wolf Skull, part of the Red Skull Gang. Get it back for me, and I'll give you this."
He reached into his pocket and produced a gleaming ID chip. Activating it, he showed Cain the holographic profile—a clean identity, no criminal record, complete freedom.
Cain stared at the ID chip, his mind racing. A new identity would solve countless problems. But this deal reeked of corruption. Baiden was clearly no saint, and the task wasn't without its risks. Cain hesitated.
"I need assurances," he said finally. "Something tangible."
Baiden chuckled, as if he had anticipated this. He placed the ID chip on the table. "This chip will be yours the moment you complete the job. I'll even upload the details to make it official before you leave."
Cain mulled it over. A chance at freedom was worth the gamble. "Fine," he said. "But I expect you to hold up your end."
Baiden's smile widened. "You won't regret this."
Cain left the station an hour later, now equipped with a tracking device embedded discreetly under his skin. It was a safeguard, a leash ensuring he wouldn't flee before completing the mission.
The target, Wolf Skull, was a small-time gang leader, though still dangerous. He was known to operate out of an underground bar frequented by the city's lowlifes and miscreants. Cain wasted no time heading there, clutching the pass Baiden had given him to gain entry.
The bar was a cacophony of sound and light. Music blared from oversized speakers, and multicolored lights flashed erratically, casting strange shadows across the room. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of cheap alcohol. People danced, laughed, and lost themselves in the chaos of the night.
Cain spotted his target almost immediately—a hulking man with a bald head and a prominent wolf-skull tattoo on the side of his face. He sat in a corner booth, surrounded by lackeys and draped in an air of smug confidence.
As Cain debated his approach, a familiar voice called out. "Hey! Cain!"
He turned to see the group of young revelers he had met on the bus. Among them was the golden-haired girl, Amy, who waved him over with an inviting smile.
Cain hesitated. He had a mission to complete, but drawing unnecessary attention wasn't wise. Playing along might provide useful cover.
He joined their booth, accepting a drink he didn't touch. Amy leaned closer, her eyes bright with intoxicated excitement. "Here, try this!" she said, offering him a small capsule.
Cain shook his head firmly. "No, thanks."
Amy rolled her eyes but didn't press him. The group laughed and joked, lost in their revelry, while Cain kept one eye on Wolf Skull.
But trouble found him before he could make his move. One of Wolf Skull's lackeys swaggered into the booth, leering at Amy. "How about a dance, sweetheart?"
Amy's smile vanished. "Not interested."
The thug grabbed her wrist. "I wasn't asking."
Cain's companions protested, but the thug silenced them by brandishing a blade. The room tensed, and Cain knew he had a choice to make. He could walk away—but these people had helped him.
Cain stood, his voice low and steady. "Let her go. She said no."