The morning air felt sharper than it should have.
Kevin stepped out onto the street with his hood up, the note from Unknown folded tight in his pocket. Every sound seemed louder now—the rumble of buses, the scrape of shoes on pavement, the distant wail of sirens threading through the city.
You are being watched.
The words wouldn't leave him alone. He kept moving. The streets grew busier the closer he got to the waterfront. Commuters flooded sidewalks, vendors shouted over each other, and traffic pulsed in waves of noise and motion. Normally, it would have been the perfect place to disappear.
Today, it felt like a maze with no exits. Kevin slowed slightly as he crossed an intersection, eyes flicking to reflections in shop windows. That's when he saw it.
A man in a dark coat.
Standing still.
Watching.
Kevin's chest tightened. He turned the corner casually, forcing himself not to run.
Another reflection—this time in a bus window. Two more figures.Same coats. Same stillness.
Agents!!!.
"Stay calm… just keep moving," Kevin muttered under his breath. He cut through a narrow side street, weaving past pedestrians, heart pounding. The noise of the city dulled behind him as he slipped into a quieter stretch lined with delivery trucks and shuttered doors. Footsteps followed. Not close. But not far enough.
Kevin's pace quickened. The alley ahead narrowed between two aging brick buildings, shadows swallowing the light.
Perfect. He slipped inside. The moment he crossed into the alley, the world changed. The city noise dropped off, replaced by the faint drip of water and the echo of his own breathing.
No cameras.
No crowds.
No witnesses.
Kevin stopped. His chest rose and fell sharply. His hands trembled—not from fear, but from the energy building beneath his skin.
"Come on…" he whispered.
The lightning answered.
It crept along his arms in faint blue threads, then brightened, humming with life. This time, it didn't sputter. It didn't fight him. It listened. Kevin leaned forward and ran. The world snapped into motion.
Brick walls stretched into streaks. The ground blurred beneath him. Wind tore past his face as he shot through the alley and back into the open city, faster than sight, faster than thought. For the first time since everything changed he was in control. He didn't stop until the air shifted. Salt.The smell hit him first. Then the sound of waves crashing softly against wood.
Kevin slowed, stumbling slightly as the lightning faded from his limbs. The pier stretched out ahead—quiet, weathered, and almost empty in the early light.
He made it. Kevin steadied himself and walked toward the far end, eyes scanning every corner. A lone fisherman stood in the distance, focused on his line, paying him no attention. Near a maintenance awning, he saw Locker 108B. Dented, blue and waiting. Kevin approached slowly.
No movement.
No agents.
No Unknown.
He glanced over his shoulder, then back at the locker. The padlock hung open, as if inviting him in. He didn't touch it. Not yet. Instead, Kevin sat on a nearby crate, elbows on his knees, watching the horizon. The city buzzed faintly behind him, but out here, everything felt suspended—like the calm before something broke.
Minutes passed. Still nothing. Kevin clenched his jaw. "Alright," he muttered. "I'm here. Now what?" The wind picked up, carrying the sound of distant gulls. And somewhere not far, but not close either a faint metallic click echoed across the pier. Kevin's head snapped up. He wasn't alone anymore.
Kevin froze, every muscle locking as the faint metallic click echoed again.
Not the locker.
Behind him.
Slowly, he stood, turning just enough to scan the pier without making it obvious. The fisherman was gone. The end of the dock—empty.
Too empty.
A shape shifted near a stack of crates farther down. Then another.
Kevin's pulse kicked hard.
"Of course…" he muttered.
Three figures stepped out—not rushing, not shouting. Calm. Controlled. The same kind of stillness he'd seen in the city.
Agents.
They were already spreading out, blocking the path back to the street.
"Kevin Knot," one of them called, voice carrying easily over the water. "This doesn't have to be difficult."
Kevin didn't answer.
His eyes flicked to the locker.
108B.
A trap?
Or his only chance?
"Step away from the locker," another agent said, raising a hand slightly—not a weapon yet, but close. "Hands where we can see them."
Kevin laughed under his breath. "Yeah… that's not happening."
The wind picked up, snapping a loose tarp nearby. The agents shifted subtly—closing distance, tightening the circle.
Kevin's fingers twitched.
A faint spark danced along his knuckles.
Not yet.
"Kevin," the first agent said, softer now. "You're not in trouble. We just want to help you understand what's happening to you."
"Funny," Kevin shot back, backing toward the locker, "that's not the vibe I got when you broke into my house."
No response to that.
Just another step closer.
Kevin reached the locker.
His hand hovered over the handle.
"Last chance," the agent warned.
Kevin didn't look at him.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Same to you."
He yanked the locker open. Inside a small black duffel bag. Nothing else. No lights. No alarms. Just a bag. Kevin grabbed it and jumped back, slinging it over his shoulder in one motion.
The agents moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
One lunged from the side, another cutting him off toward the railing. The third raised something in his hand—a compact device humming faintly.
Kevin felt it instantly, a pressure. Like the air itself was pushing against him.
His powers flickered."No—" he hissed. The spark died. The agent lunged. Kevin ducked, barely slipping under the grab, rolling across the rough wood. Pain shot through his shoulder, but he forced himself up.
Think. Move. Now.
He bolted toward a gap between crates, the agents closing in from both sides. His legs burned, slower now without the lightning.
The device hummed louder. Whatever it was it was suppressing him. Kevin's breath came fast. No powers unless necessary…
"Guess this counts," he muttered.
He skidded behind a stack of cargo crates, out of direct sight for a split second. Just enough and he clenched his fists.
"Come on… come on…"
At first nothing, then a flicker, weak but there. He forced it, pushing past the pressure, the hum, the fear. The lightning answered, violent this time and unstable.
It exploded across his arms in jagged streaks, brighter than before, louder—like it was fighting something. The agents rounded the corner and Kevin ran. Not clean, not smooth but fast enough.
He tore across the pier in a burst of blue-white light, the world snapping and distorting around him. The suppressor's effect dragged at him, slowing him, making each step heavier than it should have been but he pushed through it.
Half-speed.
Quarter-speed.
Still faster than anything human.
He shot past the agents, past the railing, past the edge of their reach. Then veered sharply off the main pier, crashing through a side walkway that led back toward the city.
The lightning sputtered.
Faded.
Died.
Kevin stumbled hard, catching himself against a wall, chest heaving. Behind him, shouting. Distant now but not gone. He looked down at the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Still with him. Still unopened. "Whatever you are…" he whispered, breath shaking, "you better be worth it."
Sirens began to rise in the distance. Kevin pulled his hood tighter and disappeared into the maze of streets once more. Somewhere behind him the agents regrouped.
Adjusting.
Learning.
Hunting.