The heavy oak door of Pulse and Crystara's unit shuddered as they burst through, the urgency in their movements a palpable current. Their footsteps thudded rhythmically against the polished floor of the hallway, a frantic counterpoint to the quiet hum of the building. Outside, leaning casually against the opposite wall, stood Revera, a warm smile gracing her lips, the aroma of a freshly cooked meal trailing faintly around her.
"Hey, guys!" Revera called out, her voice bright with invitation. "I just cooked food for us and my family to eat. It's still hot!"
Pulse, already halfway past her, skidded to a halt, his expression etched with regret. "Oh, Revera, I'm so sorry! We absolutely can't right now. This meeting maybe be important. But I promise, the moment we're done, we're coming straight back. Lunch, maybe even earlier, if the meeting ended early."
Revera's smile faltered for only a second, quickly replaced by understanding. "Great, then! I'll just reheat the food. Don't worry about it. Just… be safe." Her eyes held a flicker of concern that went beyond the simple meal.
As they resumed their hurried pace, Crystara, running alongside Pulse, turned to him. "Pulse, We're wasting time on these stairs. I'll use my crystal form and carry you. We need to move."
Pulse, still internally fretting about Revera's meal, simply nodded. "I guess it's alright now to use your powers now. Try it."
Crystara closed her eyes for a brief moment, a soft shimmer emanating from her skin. The transformation was swift, but this time, something was different. Her familiar, solid crystalline form rippled, elongating, becoming noticeably taller and leaner. The uniform sheen of her past crystal skin now bore subtle, almost ephemeral fades of crimson, amethyst, and sapphire, swirling just beneath the surface like captured nebulae. When she opened her eyes again, they sparkled with a renewed intensity.
She flexed an arm, the individual facets of her crystal muscles gleaming, and then jumped lightly, testing her new form. A delighted gasp escaped her lips. "Holy shit, I feel so fucking light!" Her voice, usually a melodic chime in this form, now had a slightly deeper resonance. Without waiting for a full response, she effortlessly scooped Pulse into her arms, cradling him against her crystalline chest. "But we'll talk about this later. Your great vibrator massage really does make people stronger, Pulse. That… or something else entirely."
With Pulse secured, Crystara didn't just run; she dashed down the hallway, a streaking blur of shimmering, multi-hued crystal. She didn't bother with the stairs, instead leaping over the banister, dropping several floors in a single, controlled descent, landing with a soft thud that barely reverberated through the building. The sound of their rapid departure echoed long after they were gone, leaving Revera alone in the hallway, watching the space they had occupied with a mixture of fondness and unease.
Revera sighed, a small shiver tracing its way down her spine as the silence settled around her. She turned back to her unit, the inviting aroma of her cooking now tinged with a faint disappointment. She opened the door, stepping back into the warmth of her home. Her mother, seated at the dining table, looked up, a knowing expression on her face.
"They're not available, are they?" her mother asked, her voice gentle. "I told you, you should invite them at night, when all these… meetings and jobs are over."
Revera offered a small, apologetic shrug. "Yeah, but they said they'd be back at lunch... I'm sorry again that we ended up like this." She gestured vaguely to the heavy, fortified door, a silent acknowledgment of the new reality they found themselves in, a reality born of threats and constant vigilance.
Her mother pushed herself up from the chair, coming to comfort Revera. "How many times do I have to say that it's not your fault?" She stroked Revera's hair. Her father, a man whose face bore the lines of recent stress but whose eyes still held a fierce spark, joined them. "It's not your fault that some people are simply selfish and evil," he added, his voice low and firm. "We'll get over this. Those revenant authority will be punished, and we'll live normally again."
A hopeful silence fell, shattered almost immediately by a sharp rap on the door. All three tensed, eyes darting to the entryway. Revera's heart hammered against her ribs. Who could it be?
Cautiously, Revera peered through the door viewer. On the other side stood a man whose smile was so wide, so utterly radiant, it seemed almost unnatural. He was a picture of joviality, his round face beaming, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He wore what seemed to be a standard-issue uniform of some kind, though Revera couldn't place the insignia.
"Revera, right?" the jolly man said, somehow sensing her presence through the thick door.
Revera blinked, confused. "Yes, I'm Revera."
As she spoke, a shimmering, almost invisible door suddenly materialized in the hallway behind the jolly looking man, its edges unfurling like ripples in water. From within it stepped another man, starkly different from the first. This man was lean, with a grave expression and eyes that seemed to miss nothing. He wore the insignia of the Vanguard Bureau. The shimmering door snapped shut behind him, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
The newly arrived man, ignoring the jolly figure, scanned the hallway, his gaze immediately locking onto a discreet camera nestled in the corner of the ceiling. "Give me your ID," he commanded, his voice devoid of warmth, directed at the jolly man.
Without a moment's hesitation, the jolly man produced an identification card, his wide smile remaining fixed.
The Vanguard agent took it, his eyes swiftly scanning the details. "And what precisely is a crew member of a ship doing in front of Revera's unit?" he asked, returning the card. His suspicion was a palpable force in the hallway.
The jolly man's smile deepened. "A request from Pulse, actually. When he was on the ship of Kharavel with me, he simply requested for me to give this to Revera." Reaching into his bag, he brought out a huge crystal, its facets sparkling brilliantly. "It's one of the crystals that Pulse and Crystara got from traveling in Kharavel."
The Vanguard agent, however, intercepted the crystal before Revera could take it. He turned it over in his hand, his brow furrowed in thought. "Then why didn't Pulse and Crystara give this to Revera themselves? And from my knowledge, they both already sold all the crystals they got from Kharavel."
The jolly man's cheer didn't waver. "Pulse lost a crystal during their ship back. He simply asked me to find it and bring it to Revera. Since everyone knows who Revera is after the conflict a day or two ago, I simply agreed to his demand."
The Vanguard agent's gaze hardened. He clearly wasn't convinced. "I'll hold onto this crystal for a while for inspection. You may leave." His tone left no room for argument.
With another overly cheerful nod, the jolly man turned to go. But as he passed a small, decorative table in the hallway, his hand dipped out of sight, retrieving something small and metallic from a hidden compartment beneath it, before he continued on his way, humming a tuneless melody.
The Vanguard agent turned his attention back to Revera, his expression softening slightly. "Revera, be careful," he advised, his eyes flickering towards the general direction Pulse and Crystara had taken. Then, with a subtle shift in his aura, he created another shimmering door on the wall. He stepped through it, and it vanished, leaving no trace.
Meanwhile, the Vanguard agent rematerialized in a CCTV monitoring control room, placing the huge crystal he'd confiscated onto a central console. About five other individuals, all sharp-eyed and alert, manned various screens, observing different parts of the building.
"Where did that crew member go?" the agent asked, his voice echoing in the hum of the electronics.
One of the technicians pointed to a screen in the corner. "He's leaving the building, sir. Just passed the main lobby… wait." The camera zoomed in slightly as the jolly man reached under a table near the main entrance, retrieving something else small and nondescript before calmly walking out. The agent frowned, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. The man's behavior felt off.
Unknown to the six people in that room, the confiscated crystal on the table began to subtly vibrate. Then, almost imperceptibly at first, its crystalline facets blurred, softened, and began to morph. It wasn't a sudden, explosive transformation, but a slow, disturbing liquefaction of form. The edges rounded, the structure softened, until, with a final shudder, the crystal melted away, revealing a short, naked man kneeling on the table. He was gaunt, his skin pale, his eyes sharp and alert.
Nestled within the remains of the huge crystal was a small, sleek tranquilizer gun with a surprisingly large magazine, along with about ten tranquilizer darts. Without a sound, the short man, whose skin now looked like smooth, unblemished marble, moved with alarming speed. He immediately loaded five darts into the gun, the maximum capacity, his fingers moving with practiced efficiency.
The guards were still discussing the jolly man's suspicious activity, their backs largely turned to the console, when the first dart whistled through the air. The short man fired with terrifying precision, a blur of motion. Thwip! Thwip! Thwip! Thwip! Thwip! All five darts found their mark, sinking into the necks and shoulders of five powerful-looking awakened individuals who collapsed like marionettes with cut strings. There was no time to react, no scream, just the sudden, inexplicable fall of bodies.
Only one guard remained standing: a slim, wiry man who had been focused on a low-priority screen. He spun around, his eyes widening in horror at his fallen comrades, and immediately charged towards the communication device on the wall, his hand outstretched, aiming to call for emergency backup.
The short naked man cursed under his breath, realizing he had underestimated the last guard's speed. He tried to reload, but the slim security guard was too fast, too close. Left with no choice, the short naked man grabbed a metal office chair and hurled it with surprising force.
The security guard, a flicker of light indicating his awakened ability, caught the chair mid-air, deflecting its momentum with a grunt. He didn't stop, his focus solely on the communication panel, his fingers inches away.
But then, something thin and incredibly strong snaked out, wrapping itself around his ankle. The guard stumbled, his legs kicking out from under him, and he crashed to the floor. He looked down, confusion giving way to alarm. It was a whip, a pale, almost translucent tendril that had extended from the short naked man's left arm. The arm itself had stretched and reshaped into the weapon, a disturbing display of power.
The short naked man, now reloading with frantic speed, aimed the tranquilizer gun. The security guard, desperate, threw up his arm, his entire limb glowing with an intense, blinding light, a last-ditch attempt to stun or deter his attacker.
But the short naked man didn't flinch. He didn't scream, didn't panic. His eyes, though, squeezed shut, his face remaining impassive as he fired, steady as a rock, through the blinding glare. The dart found its mark, piercing the guard's exposed forearm. The glow immediately flickered, then died, and the security guard slumped, unconscious.
The short naked man then pulled out a tiny ear-piece and spoke into it, his voice a low, raspy whisper. "Are we really not going to kill these guards to lessen suspicion?"
The jolly man's voice crackled back through the ear-piece, still disturbingly cheerful. "The Vanguard Bureau will immediately know it's our bureau after we kidnap Revera. Not killing any of their members could lower the guilt or anger." Jolly then added, "I'm bringing out a small tranquilizer gun and a parachute now. Rendezvous point is secure."
The short naked man, now fully dressed in a Vanguard Bureau uniform taken from one of the unconscious guards, looked through a different camera feed on a screen. This one showed the ground floor, where several other shadowy figures, members of their team, had already infiltrated the Vanguard Bureau building. He guided them with silent gestures, watching as each member planted a small, almost invisible device at strategic points before melting away into the chaos of the building.
Moments later, the jolly man, now armed with his own diminutive tranquilizer gun and carrying a folded parachute, reappeared in the hallway outside Revera's unit. He knocked again, a jaunty rhythm.
This time, Revera didn't immediately open the door. She had heard the previous man's warning and was peering through the door viewer, her face pale. "Who is it?" she asked, her voice tight with apprehension.
"Just me again, Revera!" the jolly man chimed, his smile audible even through the solid wood. "I just forgot to give you something."
"Please just leave it on the door," Revera insisted, her voice firmer now. "This is an order by the bureau. I'm not opening up."
The jolly man sighed, a theatrical sound. Then, with surprising speed, he pressed his arm against the small crack where the door met the frame. His flesh seemed to ripple, flattening, and then, impossibly, his entire arm slipped through to the other side. His fingers snaked towards the lock, intent on opening the door from within.
But Revera was ready. With a desperate cry, she swung a heavy metal coat rack, bringing it down with all her might on the jolly man's hand as it emerged into her unit.
A sharp, agonizing scream ripped through the hallway. The jolly man yanked his arm back, clutching his mangled hand, his cheerful facade finally cracking. "Fuck!" he hissed, his eyes blazing with a chilling fury. He immediately began to kick the door, each impact a jarring thud that echoed through the unit.
"Mom! Dad! Block the door!" Revera screamed, her voice raw with terror. Revera's parents, startled but quick, grabbed the heaviest furniture they could find a sturdy wooden dresser, a thick armchair and shoved them against the door.
But it was too late. As they braced themselves against the makeshift barricade, a grotesque sight unfolded. The jolly man, now shedding his clothes and weapons in a shimmering process, began to compress, his body flowing like thick liquid through the impossibly small crack at the bottom corner of the door. He emerged on the other side, naked, his skin a disturbing, featureless expanse, but now, he was inside.
He rematerialized fully inside the living room, his form solidifying. The jolly man didn't waste a second. He immediately attacked Revera's family. Revera fumbled for her communication device, desperately trying to dial Pulse. Her parents, grabbing kitchen knives and a heavy frying pan, lunged at the intruder, but the jolly man simply slipped through their attacks, his body rippling and reforming, making him immune to their makeshift weapons.
He moved like a phantom, avoiding every strike, and then, with devastating speed, he began to beat Revera's parents. He punched them repeatedly, aiming for their heads, his face a mask of cold, unblinking determination.
"Stop! Please, stop!" Revera shrieked, tears streaming down her face as she watched her parents battered. The jolly man continued his brutal assault, relentless, until both of Revera's parents crumpled to the floor, unconscious and bleeding profusely from their faces.
His eyes, now devoid of any trace of jolliness, fixed on Revera. He snatched her communication device right out of her hand. His eyes widened, a furious snarl twisting his lips when he saw that the call was currently connected to Pulse. "Fuck!" he roared, a genuine, animalistic sound of rage. He backhanded Revera across the face with brutal force, sending her reeling, a gush of blood erupting from her mouth.
Pulse's frantic voice could be heard from the device, a muffled question before the jolly man crushed it in his fist.
With his immediate objectives complete, the jolly man swiftly removed the blockage from the door. He darted back outside, grabbing his tranquilizer gun and the parachute. He went back to the unit, but Revera was no longer in the living room. She had vanished.
"Bitch!" he screamed, his voice echoing through the now silent, blood-spattered unit. He rushed through the rooms, frantically searching for Revera.
At that very moment, on the ground floor of the Vanguard building, all the planted devices activated simultaneously. A thick, greenish gas began to hiss and spread, rapidly engulfing the ground floor and quickly rising through the ventilation shafts. This was no ordinary gas; once inhaled, people immediately passed out.
Panic erupted. Screams filled the air as people stumbled out of offices, clutching their throats, falling unconscious. Awakened individuals, their powers flaring, attempted to contain the rapidly spreading gas, creating barriers of energy or trying to disperse it, but the sheer volume and speed were overwhelming. Chaos reigned.
Up above, oblivious to the unfolding disaster, Crystara, still carrying Pulse, had just reached the 15th floor, mere moments from Revera's unit. The sudden, frantic ring of Pulse's communication device had cut off mid-ring, replaced by a chilling silence. The growing screams from below, the chaotic rush of people, and the acrid scent of the gas were now undeniable. They surged forward, a terrifying premonition gripping their hearts.