The air was already hot, cooked by the relentless mid-morning sun beating down on the concrete canyons. High above the ceaseless clamor of the city, the heat shimmered off the black gravel of the rooftop. It was a spectacular, perilous stage.
Skye and the fully covered man stood motionless, two stark silhouettes against the blinding blue canvas. The wind, usually her ally, was merely a hot breath between them, carrying a tension that felt physically charged, like walking through an exposed electrical field.
The man then said, his voice compressed and dehumanized by the modulator in his mask, finally broke the quiet. "I recommend leaving the area."
Skye leaned back slightly, her short, chestnut hair catching the oppressive light. Her stance was one of casual defiance. "Yeah, well," she drawled, her voice a cool counterpoint to the heat, "the Vanguard Bureau tends to frown on people who treat public airspace like their personal hunting ground, edgy boy."
Before the man could formulate a reply, the street below erupted.
A screech, harsh and metallic, ripped through the ambient city hum. Four heavy vehicles, two sleek black sedans and two unmarked tactical vans, swerved violently to block the intersection directly beneath the apartment complex. Headlights, even in the daylight, glared like the eyes of hungry things.
Skye's breath hitched. That wasn't just a retrieval team; that was an extraction squad, professional and heavily armed.
Damn it.
She didn't wait for the man to move. She launched herself forward, not toward the rooftop edge, but directly over it. The wind instantly recognized her command, wrapping her descent into a tight, controlled spiral. She was a living drill bit of air, dropping fifty feet in an instant. The man yelled at her "Stop!" but his voice was lost to the rush of her flight.
She twisted mid-air, guiding her momentum through the open window of the second floor. She hit the carpeted hallway silently, already moving, her eyes locked on the brass numbers: 2B.
She pounded on the door. It swung inward, revealing a startled, middle-aged man, still in his work clothes, confusion warring with annoyance on his face. "Can I help—"
Skye didn't stop. She shoved past him, her proximity radiating a cold competence he couldn't ignore. "Vanguard Bureau. Code Red. You're in danger right now," she stated, terse and steady. "I'm here to secure you."
The man stumbled back, his face draining of color. "W-what? Protect us from what?"
"Kidnapping, likely forcible recruitment," Skye replied, already checking the narrow balcony for external access points. "And judging by the sound of those heavy boots on the street, you've got about a minute or two before they arrive."
The man's wife, pale and trembling, peered out from the kitchen doorway. Outside, the muffled shouts of command and the heavy thud-thud-thud of disciplined movement began to vibrate through the floorboards.
The man looked down through the partially open window and froze solid. "They're here."
Down below, the man was now visible among the masked men, pointing upward. Then, his head tilted slightly, an unnerving movement that suggested he knew exactly where they were. His invisible gaze locked with the man's.
The target stumbled back, clutching his chest. "Why," he whispered, a ragged sound.
Then, the true muscle arrived. The air itself seemed to darken. Three colossal figures, the first wave of Awakened, appeared on the street, their auras rippling and warping the bright light around them. A fourth, agile and fast, landed with a heavy crack on the adjacent building's rooftop, his heavy trench coat snapping in the solar wind.
Skye swore, a sharp, professional curse. "Five awakened? Seriously? I better be getting triple hazard pay for this, Muse." The thought was a private joke, a reference to their usually over-the-top handler.
She turned to the couple, her cool demeanor fracturing slightly under the weight of the odds. "I am not fighting this. You both will hide for now."
Skye had no time for panic. She grabbed both of them by the waist and channeled her power not outward, but downward, compressing the very air beneath her.
The blast was localized but powerful. A controlled, violent gust spiraled up the central stairwell, carrying the three of them like weights in a centrifuge. They reached the fourth floor in a matter of seconds, landing with a jarring yet safe thump.
Skye sprinted to the nearest marked door, knocking in a frantic, demanding rhythm.
It swung open almost immediately, revealing a shockingly muscular, shirtless man in bright red silk boxer shorts, striking a frankly ridiculous, high-drama pose. A single, slightly wilted red rose was clamped between his teeth. "Hola, baby bella—"
"Hundred dollars," Skye snapped, already shoving the terrified couple into his apartment. She pulled the thick wad of emergency bills from a hidden pocket in her tactical trousers. "They hide here. You say nothing. You forget you saw two middle-aged people and a pissed-off Vanguard operative."
The man blinked, his romantic intentions evaporating as he stared at the crisp hundred-dollar bills. The rose slipped from his lips and plopped onto the carpet. "…Deal." He snatched the cash with astonishing speed and professionalism.
"Good romantic man." Skye didn't wait for his gratitude, dashing back toward the stairwell. Behind her, the half-naked dramatic lover boy stared blankly at the cowering couple and muttered, utterly bewildered, "If who ever searching for this couple then they came crashing to my unit and found them. I just say I was asleep, totally single and the couple forced their way in."
Skye shot back down to the second floor, arriving at apartment 2B just as the heavy boots of the man's initial strike team hit the hallway carpet. She barely stepped inside the empty apartment before a cold, composed voice cut through the air behind her, heavy and laced with suppressed vibration power.
"This doesn't concern you or your bureau, woman."
She turned slowly, her hand hovering near her waist, where she kept her non-lethal restraint devices. The man stood in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the hallway light. He was flanked by six others, three of whom were Awakened, their collective presence pressing against the air in the room, a palpable, invisible weight against her lungs.
One of them, a lean man with silver eyes and a predatory smile, stepped slightly forward. "We aren't here for a fight, Vanguard. The couple are the parents of one of our necessary assets. We just came to… negotiate something that's highly confidential."
"Right," Skye muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Because you always bring four vans, seven armed men, and a death squad of Awakened to 'chat' about paperwork."
The silver-eyed man's smile evaporated. "Don't make this difficult, operative. Step aside." He gestured sharply to one of the Awakened waiting on the balcony, a man whose skin rippled slightly with a low-grade energy field. "Check the other floors. Start with the ones immediately above."
The man on the balcony crouched, ready to take flight, a movement requiring only the slightest leap of faith—
And Skye moved first.
Her protective aura flared, a sudden, sharp gust that rattled the blinds and sent the Awakened man's hair whipping. The wind surged around her like a hurricane compressed into a single, terrifying heartbeat. She raised her hand, gathering a cyclone in her palm, preparing to launch a concentrated vortex that would rip the man off the balcony and slam him into the street below.
But before she could unleash the strike, the world exploded.
A deafening BOOM of displaced air and kinetic force shattering every windowpane in the immediate vicinity. Glass shattered inward, turning into sparkling, innocuous dust before it even reached the floor, caught and neutralized by the sheer pressure wave. The resulting concussive force rippled through the walls, sending papers, framed photos, and dust clouds swirling madly.
Skye stumbled, raising a forearm to shield her eyes from the sudden, celestial brightness.
When she looked up, she saw her.
Celestial Muse, floated outside the mangled balcony, radiant as a star descending from a midday heaven.
Her silver hair was unbound, glowing like molten light, pulled back only partially by the tactical headset that wrapped around her skull. She radiated restrained, overwhelming power.
Even the man and his Awakened men froze mid-motion, their instincts screaming a warning that transcended mere human fear. They knew this level of force.
Muse's gaze swept across the eight men, sharp and dismissive, before settling on the fully covered man. Her tone, usually charming and light in conversation, was now calm but sharp, cutting through the shattered silence like a freshly honed blade.
"You have engaged in illegal armed movement in a residential area. And you have challenged my operative." she stated, her voice amplified and echoing through the empty air like a synthesized choir.
She raised one hand, and the sunlight intensified around her, concentrating into a visible, golden halo.
"I suggest," she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous, icy command, "you evacuate this plane of existence. Now."
The wind outside fell silent, waiting.
The covered man shifted only slightly, his focus absolute. "Muse. Always the spectacle," he ground out, pulling the heavy, vibrating sword from his sheath. "You have no jurisdiction here."
Muse barely spared him a glance, her eyes already calculating trajectories and potential damage. "Jurisdiction is irrelevant when you're dealing with abduction."
She didn't waste another moment on discussion. The light gathered in her hand condensed, forming a shimmering, tactical spear of pure, white plasma.
"Since you won't leave," she said, the last vestiges of charm gone, replaced by the honed, cold precision of a warrior, "I will make you."
She threw the spear. It was faster than sound, a bolt of condensed stellar fury aimed directly at the center of the man's chest.
The fully covered man wasn't slow. His gloved hand swept outward, and the air instantly grew heavy and wet. Vapor condensed around him, thick and swirling. In a heartbeat, the entire floor of the apartment turned misty, as though the sea itself had risen to answer his call.
The spear met a wall of condensed water, so dense it looked like liquid glass.
CRASH!
The plasma bolt exploded against the water shield, bursting into steam and scalding vapor. The explosion tore through the far wall, exposing the neighboring apartment. The shockwave flung the Awakened men into the walls.
"Aeru! Get airborne!" the fully covered man ordered, his voice deep and distorted through the mask. He leapt forward, his body trailing streams of mist. Water coiled beneath his feet, forming flowing platforms that lifted him into the air as if the sky itself obeyed him.
Skye was already moving. She didn't need to be told twice. The Awakened man on the balcony, recovering from the shockwave, lunged at her, his aura blazing.
"Sorry dude." Skye said. She twisted her wrist and sent a burst of compressed wind straight into his chest. The invisible strike hit like a cannon, folding him in half before launching him off the balcony.
Far below, chaos reigned. The men from the Revenant Authority held their ground, firing in controlled bursts.
A deep, liquid splatter echoed through the street, followed by the sound of concrete dissolving.
From the center of the intersection, a purple-haired woman emerged. Her short hair glistened under the lights, but her skin shimmered unnaturally, as though it were made of living gel. Her bikini like attire clung to a body that wasn't entirely solid, her form shifting slightly with each step.
"Oh, look at all these brave little soldiers," she said with a lazy grin, her voice rippling as though it came from underwater. "Let's see how well you swim."
A man in body armor opened fire. The bullets struck her chest, but instead of piercing flesh, they sank into her translucent body and vanished with a dull plop. The woman's grin widened.
Her right arm liquefied, transforming into a whip-like tendril that shot forward. It coiled around the gunman, dragged him off his feet, and slammed him into the side of a van hard enough to cave the metal. Then, before he could scream, the tendril snapped back and reformed into her arm.
The ground under the nearest vehicle began to bubble and soften as her slime spread outward, dissolving metal and asphalt into a viscous pool. The van sagged, its tires melting away, before she absorbed the remains with a satisfied hum.
"Don't worry," she said, licking her lips, her eyes glowing faintly violet. "You'll stick around."
The street was chaos. The purple-haired woman walked calmly through the gunfire, bullets sinking into her form like pebbles into mud. Every step she took left behind trails of slick, corrosive ooze that hissed against the concrete.
The storm had officially arrived.
Above, the true battle unfolded.
The fully covered man met Muse mid-air. He moved like liquid and wind combined, his body surrounded by swirling vapor and ribbons of water that danced around him like living serpents. His blade had dissolved into a long, fluid weapon, its edge rippling like a wave.
Muse struck with divine precision, her radiant bracers flaring with solar energy. Her attacks burned through the mist, but every strike was met by flowing defense. The man's water barriers absorbed and redirected the force, splitting the heat across a dozen miniature whirlpools that crackled and hissed in midair.
Then he countered. With a single motion, he gathered the vapor around them into a dense cloud and spun it into a storm. Lightning flashed within the fog as rain slashed through the apartment's remains. The air became his weapon, the droplets slicing through the walls like blades.
Muse answered with another spear of light. He twisted mid-air, using a spinning column of condensed water to deflect it. Steam exploded around them, cloaking the battlefield in white haze. Within the vapor, his form flickered and vanished.
"Running?" Muse hissed.
"Drifting," his voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere.
A geyser erupted from beneath her, slamming her into the ceiling before bursting into a torrent that launched her out through the shattered window. She fell, manifesting wings made of light flaring, catching herself mid-air. The rain followed her, circling like hunting sharks.
"Enough," Celestial Muse said softly. "Let's end this."
Her eyes and hair began to glow bright, their radiance swelling until the air itself seemed to tremble under her light.
The sky was calm and blue above it all, but the air reeked of ozone, steam, and decay. The city had become a crucible, and from it, something terrible was beginning to take shape.