DR. CHRISTOPHER
I'm in the midst of treating a patient when it starts—an almost imperceptible tremor. The needle in my hand quivers, the air feels charged, thick. I try to push the feeling down, but it claws its way up, a surge of energy straining against the walls of my mind.
Then, the room around me warps and twists. Small objects—the chart on the counter, the instruments on the tray—begin to crumple as if squeezed by invisible hands. Beds buckle, frames bending like twigs. The walls, solid and unyielding moments ago, splinter and crack, debris raining down in jagged chunks. It's happening again. I'm losing control. I grit my teeth, muscles straining as I try to suppress the power building inside me, but it's like trying to hold back a hurricane with nothing but sheer will. My heart pounds in my chest, panic rising as the chaos spirals beyond anything I can contain.
"Get out!" I shout, my voice ragged, desperate. "Everyone, get out!"
But it's too late. The power bursts forth, a force that distorts and crushes everything in its path. Patients scream, their cries swallowed by the roar of destruction. Nurses and orderlies scatter, faces twisted in terror as they flee the collapsing room. The floor shudders beneath me, cracks spreading like spiderwebs across the tiles. My breath catches in my throat. I swore to protect these people, to heal them—and now they're running for their lives because of me.
My gaze locks on a young woman, her eyes wide with fear as she clutches her swollen belly. "Please," she sobs, backing away. "Don't—"
"I'm sorry," I choke out, but the words feel hollow, meaningless. The pressure is overwhelming, crushing, and all I can do is watch as the walls cave in, the ceiling splitting open above us. I have to get out. I have to—
With a final, desperate glance at the chaos I've unleashed, I turn and run, bursting through the shattered door and into the hallway beyond.
The streets outside are alive with pandemonium. Sirens wail, red and blue lights casting frantic shadows across the pavement. People scream, scatter in every direction, their faces masks of fear and confusion. And then I see them—soldiers. A full squad, armed and ready, moving in a tight formation, their weapons trained on me.
"Stand down!" one of them yells, his voice crackling over the loudspeaker. "We don't want to hurt you!"
I try to speak, to explain, but my voice is lost in the cacophony. I lift my hands, palms out, a gesture of surrender—but it's no use. My powers flare again, a surge of energy I can't control. The guns in the soldiers' hands jerk upward, wrenching free as if yanked by invisible strings. They hover in the air for a split second, then crumple, folding in on themselves like paper before dropping uselessly to the ground.
"What the hell?" a soldier shouts, his face pale. "He's—he's disarming us!"
The air vibrates with tension, the soldiers caught between fear and confusion. I take a step back, my heart hammering in my chest, the power still thrumming, pulsing through my veins. "Please," I try again, my voice breaking. "I don't want to hurt anyone."
"Fall back!" another soldier yells, but it's too late. My power lashes out, uncontrolled, unfocused. The lead military vehicle lurches as the front end crumples like a soda can, metal shrieking as it folds in on itself. Then it explodes, a deafening roar that rocks the street, flames and shrapnel spewing in all directions.
"No, no, no!" I scream, but the destruction is relentless, unstoppable. Soldiers dive for cover, their shouts mingling with the crackle of flames and the wail of sirens. Panic grips me, squeezing tight, and I do the only thing I can think of—I run.
I bolt down a side street, my feet pounding the pavement. Every muscle in my body screams for me to stop, to collapse, but I can't. I can't stop. I turn into an alley, pressing myself against the cold, rough wall, chest heaving as I gasp for breath. I can hear them, the soldiers, the sirens, the chaos I've left in my wake.
I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms. What am I? A healer or a monster? The question pounds in my skull, relentless. I've spent my life saving people, dedicating myself to their well-being—and now, I've become the very thing they need saving from.
My body trembles with exhaustion and fear, sweat dripping down my face. I bite back a sob, the weight of it all crashing down on me. I never asked for this. I never wanted this. All I wanted was to help, to heal, but now…
I sink to the ground, back against the wall, and bury my head in my hands. I don't know how to stop this. I don't know if I can. But one thing is clear: if I don't find a way to control this power, more people are going to die.
And I can't let that happen. Not again.
JESSICA
After the lead car erupts in a ball of flames, Agent Daniel, Alexander, and I move forward, our eyes locked on the new Subhuman trapped amidst the chaos. Five military trucks screech to a halt in front of us, and soldiers pour out, weapons raised. Their commander, a burly man with a grim face, shouts orders, his voice barely cutting through the roaring flames and the pounding of my heart.
"Stop right there! Hands up!" he bellows, aiming his rifle at me.
I glance back at Dan and Xender, my expression calm. "You two might want to step back for this one," I say, my voice steady despite the tension in the air.
With a swift motion, I unsheathe my twin swords, feeling the familiar weight settle into my hands. A barrage of gunfire erupts, but I move in a blur, my swords a shimmering shield as I spin them in front of me. Bullets ricochet off the blades, flying back at the soldiers who fired them. Chaos erupts as soldiers cry out, dropping one by one, cut down by their own fire.
"Nice try," I call out, a smirk tugging at my lips. "But you'll have to do better than that."
I close the distance in a heartbeat, still spinning my swords in a deadly dance, advancing down the hallway as the soldiers fall. Some try to reload, others attempt to flee, but it's too late. I am relentless, deflecting bullets with precision, my movements smooth and calculated.
The commander standing looks at me, fear etched on his face. I charge, leaps into the air, spinning. I land in front of the man, thrusting both swords into his stomach. The commander gasps, then crumples to the floor.
"You're out of options," I say softly, withdraw my swords, flicking the blood from the blades before sliding them back into their sheaths.
I turn away. "Let's move," I call to Dan and Xender. "We've got to find the Subhuman."
We run, our steps pounding against the concrete as we navigate the wreckage. Smoke billows around us, the acrid scent of burning metal filling the air. Then, through the haze, I spot him—Dr. Christopher King, crouched behind a pile of rubble, his eyes wide with fear.
As we approach, he scrambles to his feet, eyes darting around like a cornered animal. "Stay back!" he shouts, his voice raw with desperation.
I hold up my hands, my tone gentle but firm. "We're not here to hurt you, Doctor. We're here to help. What's your name?"
He hesitates, his gaze flickering between us and the smoldering wreckage behind. "Christopher… Christopher King."
I nod, taking a cautious step closer. "Good. I'm Jessica Quick, and these are Agents Alexander Thompson and Daniel Rodriguez. We're with the G.A.L.A.X.Y Organization. We're here to get you out of here, away from the soldiers and the F.B.I."
"Why?" he asks, confusion and suspicion etched across his face. "Why would you help me?"
"Because they see you as a threat," Daniel says, his voice steady. "We see you as someone who needs protection. But you have to trust us."
I reach into my belt and pull out a pair of energy-infused handcuffs, the metal glinting in the dim light. "These are to neutralize your powers," I explain, my tone calm. "It's for your safety and ours. We can't risk another… incident."
Christopher's eyes narrow, fear and uncertainty warring on his face. "You want me to wear those? After everything I've been through?"
"We understand," I say gently. "But your powers are unpredictable right now. This is just to make sure no one gets hurt, including you."
There's a tense moment of silence as he stares at the cuffs, weighing his options. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he extends his wrists. I snap the cuffs on, feeling a pang of sympathy as I see the fear and exhaustion in his eyes.
"Thank you," I say softly. "We're going to get you to safety."
The Quinjet descends, its engines a low hum against the chaos around us. As we escort Christopher inside, I can feel the weight of his trust settling heavily on my shoulders. He's scared, vulnerable, and we're his only hope.
As the hatch closes, I exchange a glance with Daniel and Alexander. We've got him, but this is just the beginning. Whatever happens next, we're in it together. And as the Quinjet lifts off, I can't shake the feeling that we've just lit a fuse that could change everything.
SMITH
I take photos of the Military General while the squad of soldiers inform her of Christopher's escape. I enter the Quinjet as I'm done with it.
"Let's go."
JESSICA
The pilot starts the Quinjet and skillfully flies the Quinjet into our biggest jet, Anotonov an-225.
SMITH
I sit at my desk, surrounded by Daniel, Alexander and Liam. We are all focus on the computer screen, trying to figure out who these mysterious soldiers were. The room is quiet, except for the sound of typing and clicking.
"I found something," I said, pointing to a picture on the screen. "This woman has worked for different governments all over the world."
My team lean in, interested in what I had discovered.
"She has used different names, but she's definitely skilled." I explained, pulling up more information.
"Sounds like a professional." Liam Taylor remarked, his eyes scanning the information on the screen.
"Why would she target new Subhumans?" Alexander asked, puzzled.
I lean back, thinking. "Maybe she's been told to get rid of them before they become a threat." I suggested. "Or maybe there's something bigger going on."
We all think about what I had said, realizing how important it was to find out more.
"Okay," I said, determined. "Let's keep looking. We need to find out who's behind all of this."
With that, we got back to work, knowing that we were getting closer to uncovering the truth about the Leader and the danger they posed.
JESSICA
I unlock the door to the Sub room, a space designed to suppress all powers and where we've been keeping Chris.
"Hey, Christopher. Mind if we come in?" I ask gently.
"Yeah, sure."
"This is one of my partners, Daniel. We're here to chat."
"So, she's the brain and you're the muscle, huh?" Chris quips.
"Believe me, she's the muscle." Dan replies with a smirk.
"Okay."
"So, how are you feeling?" I inquire, trying to gauge his state of mind.
"Like a stranger in my own body, with a side of pain. Thanks for asking." Chris responds with a wry smile.
"Well, there's something you should know. A small percentage of the population carries an alien gene mixed with their DNA. When exposed to a chemical compound known as the Chronic Cube, this gene can activate, granting extraordinary abilities." I explain.
"Wait, does that mean I'm an alien?" Chris asks, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
"Yes, in a way. Welcome to the club. We call ourselves Subhumans." I confirm.
Chris chuckles, "I think you just made that up. Subhumans aren't real."
"Believe it or not, they are. Like I said, the Chronic Cube activated your gene, giving you these abilities. That's why you were able to manipulate the walls, guns, and even the car without physically touching them." I elaborate.
"How do you know all this?" Chris inquires skeptically.
"Because I am a Subhuman." I confess, removing my left glove and revealing my gun.
"What do you think you're doing?" Dan interjects, clearly concerned.
"He needs proof." I respond calmly, aiming the gun at my left palm. "You want proof, Chris?" I ask before pulling the trigger. Blood spurts out as the bullet punctures my palm.
"Why did you do that?!" Chris shouts, alarmed.
But within seconds, before their eyes, my veins, cells, bones, and skin start to reform and heal.
"What the hell?! How did you do that?" Chris exclaims in disbelief.
"My power is regeneration. My body may not be able to endure all pains, but it can reform and heal from any wound, external or internal." I explain.
"I've never seen anything like it, except in movies." Chris admits, bewildered. "But can I heal myself?"
"No, your powers are different. You have gravity manipulation, and you'll need to master them." I clarify, hoping to ease his confusion.
SOPHIA
Leaning over the sleek metallic surface, I furrow my brow, analyzing the intricate design of the recovered weapon. Around me, the science team huddles, their faces a mix of curiosity and determination.
"This is unlike anything we've seen before," I say. "The craftsmanship is remarkable—an advanced fusion of technology and ancient techniques."
"Indeed," Dr. Freeman responds, nodding. "But what does it signify? What purpose does it serve?"
"Could it be a key to understanding their civilization?" I ponder, tracing the etched patterns on the weapon's handle.
"Perhaps it's more than a weapon," Dr. Chen suggests. "It might hold cultural significance—a symbol of power or authority."
As we delve deeper into our analysis, each team member contributes their expertise, piecing together fragments of information like a complex puzzle. We seek not only to decipher the weapon's mysteries but also to unravel the enigma of our adversaries' intentions.
Moments later, the once-clear sky outside darkens ominously. Heavy clouds roll in with alarming speed, and the distant rumble of thunder echoes through the air, causing us to exchange uneasy glances.
"Did you hear that?" one scientist asks, voice trembling.
I glance up, narrowing my eyes at the atmospheric anomaly unfolding outside. "What's going on?" I mutter, my voice barely a whisper.
---
JESSICA
"I think your largest plane is gonna crash like a paper airplane in a hurricane," Chris quips, and we all burst into laughter.
"But why the storm?" Daniel asks, tension mounting as the thunder grows louder, reverberating through the walls.
"Chris, stay here. We'll be right back."
"Where the hell are you guys going?" he replies, confusion etched on his face.
Dan and I move quickly to the cockpit, drawn in by the thunder that has captured everyone's attention, including Mr. Smith.
"What the hell is happening?" Mr. Smith asks, eyes wide. "We haven't experienced weather like this before."
"Don't know, sir. We're trying to avoid the lightning and get out of the storm," Dan replies, urgency lacing his tone.
Suddenly, raw power strikes the ground behind us, sending shockwaves through the air. The force disturbs the surface, raising a thick cloud of dust and debris.
"Jesus! Is that real, or am I dreaming?" Liam exclaims.
As the smoke begins to clear, a figure emerges where the lightning had struck. He is cloaked in armor that appears forged from sunlight, its golden plates intricately patterned like the veins of leaves, pulsating with life. Bold crimson fabric cascades from his shoulders, a regal contrast to the electric bolts zigzagging across his breastplate.
To be continued...