The morning after the Convergence was as surreal as the event itself. Isla awoke in the shadow of a crumbling skyscraper, the fractured sky casting a faint, otherworldly glow over the ruins. Her body ached from the previous night's escape, every muscle screaming in protest as she pushed herself upright. Around her, the city—or what remained of it—was eerily silent, the distant wail of sirens and the occasional crash of debris the only sounds that broke the stillness.
Isla's thoughts raced as she scanned her surroundings. The energy that had erupted from her palms the night before still buzzed faintly beneath her skin, a reminder of the alien force now coursing through her veins. She clenched her fists, willing the sensation away, but it lingered stubbornly, a constant hum that both frightened and intrigued her.
Her gaze settled on a makeshift shelter across the street—a crude barricade of overturned vehicles and metal scraps. Isla hesitated, debating whether to approach. If there were survivors inside, they could be hostile. Or worse, they could be Hydra. She shook her head, forcing herself to move. She needed answers, and hiding wouldn't provide them.
As she crossed the rubble-strewn street, her mind replayed the events of the Convergence. The lab, her team, the experiment spiraling out of control… The image of her colleague disintegrating in front of her eyes flashed vividly in her memory, and she swallowed hard, pushing the thought aside. Now wasn't the time for guilt. Survival demanded focus.
The barricade creaked as Isla climbed over it, her movements careful and deliberate. On the other side, she found a small group of survivors huddled around a fire. Their faces were gaunt, their clothes torn and dirty. At the sound of her approach, they turned, their expressions a mix of fear and suspicion.
"Who are you?" a woman demanded, her voice sharp and wary. She held a makeshift weapon—a metal pipe—in trembling hands.
Isla raised her hands in a gesture of peace. "My name is Isla. I… I'm just looking for help."
The woman's eyes narrowed. "Help? After what your kind did to this city?"
Isla blinked, taken aback. "My kind?"
"The ones with powers," another survivor interjected, a young man with a bloodied bandage wrapped around his head. "The ones who think they're gods. They're the reason we're in this mess."
Realization dawned on Isla. In the wake of the Convergence, anyone with abilities—enhanced individuals, mutants, or otherwise—had likely become scapegoats for the chaos. She opened her mouth to respond, but a distant explosion shook the ground, cutting her off. The survivors scrambled to their feet, their fear palpable.
"They're coming," the woman hissed, her grip tightening on the pipe.
"Who?" Isla asked, her heart pounding.
"Hydra," the young man replied grimly. "They've been rounding up anyone they can find. Experimenting on them."
Isla's blood ran cold. Her mind raced as she assessed the situation. She couldn't stay here; the survivors' distrust of her was evident, and Hydra's arrival was imminent. But leaving these people to fend for themselves felt equally wrong. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus.
"There's a subway entrance a few blocks east," Isla said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "It might lead to safety."
The woman eyed her skeptically. "And why should we trust yo