Blood still clung to the cracked tiles, the air thick with the metallic stench of battle. I sprinted down the dim hallway that led toward the descending staircase, Charles' words echoing relentlessly in my head:
"Do hurry, please. The mimic that Yuwon Weaver is fighting is a bit… special."
"Shit…" I muttered, breath ragged. "If the average mimic can take down ten armed people, and this one's modified-- Agent Ares can't take him on alone."
But what I saw when I reached the bottom made me stop cold.
Collapsed pillars, the floor cracked in spiderweb patterns, walls split from brutal impacts. And at the center of it all lay the mimic Charles had warned me about-- slumped, lifeless.
'Did I underestimate Ares?' I thought, eyes narrowing. 'His only combat gear are the fourth ring gloves…'
My gaze shifted-- and froze on the man ahead. Agent Ares stood still among the wreckage, two bodies at his feet.
I walked closer, eyes scanning the carnage until they landed on the male: blonde, mid-twenties, his body pale and broken.
Ares looked up, voice low.
"Supervisor Ash… I was too late. They're alive, but barely. Their injuries are beyond repair."
I crouched beside Weaver, lightly slapping his cheek three times. His eyelids fluttered, and those empty eyes met mine. Even near-death, there was a strange sharpness behind them.
"Greetings," I said coolly. "Agent Ash, Civilian Rescue Division, BAA. Are you Yuwon Weaver?"
He blinked slowly. "Y–yes."
Ares frowned. "Supervisor, what are you doing?"
I ignored him, fixing my attention on Weaver again. "Alright, Mr. Weaver. Do you and that woman wish to survive? I have something that can arrange it."
From my suits pocket, I pulled out two small, round glass bottles. The liquid inside shimmered faintly under the broken lights.
「Anomalous Healing Potion」
Reverts any damage sustained within or by an anomaly in the last 60 hours.
Each vial worth more than a year's salary-- and I was about to hand them to a civilian.
Sold by the BAA to its employees, its an incredibly expensive Potion made of Anomalous Essence. However each Supervisor of an Elite Squad gets a free one per month.
Ares grabbed my wrist. "Supervisor, with all due respect, that's Bureau property. We're forbidden from using--"
I cut him off with a sharp glare. "We'll discuss this later, Agent."
He let go reluctantly. I turned back to Weaver, forcing a polite smile.
"Here's the deal. These potions can undo every wound you've sustained. In return, you'll be employed by the Bureau of Anomalous Affairs for for a six month term. You'll receive counseling, housing, and compensation along with some other... Quirks. Do we have a deal?"
Weaver looked dazed, trembling, his lips barely moving. "I'll do… whatever. Just help us."
"Understood."
I tilted each potion to their mouths. The liquid slid in silently-- and then it began.
Dark red smoke erupted, swirling violently around them until their bodies were completely obscured. The air shimmered, heat radiating outward. When the smoke turned gray and drifted up, both of them were whole again. No wounds, no scars.
Except Yuwon wasn't waking up.
Ares stared, brows furrowed. "That's… not supposed to happen, is it?"
"Technically not," I muttered. "But his vitals are stable. Call it a side effect."
I hoisted Weaver over my shoulder. "You take the girl. Let's move."
Ares followed, carrying her carefully. As we stepped through the broken archway toward the exit, his voice came again, quiet but edged with suspicion.
"So, Supervisor Ash… care to explain?"
I sighed. "Where do I even begin?"
Right when we walked through the exit door I glanced back at the collapsing mace one last time.
I saw a man spectating. Suit-- office attire identical to the BAA Suits but the the color was a dark brown with a golden tie. Hands in his pants' pockets- face hidden by a shadow.
He looked relaxed-- too relaxed for someone inside a dying anomaly.
---
Two Weeks Later
I walked through a busy Hospital corridor.
'Anomalies... apparently they take shape in form of sub-dimensions and creatures. Knowledge of them is strictly hidden from the public. I can honestly tell why. Still.
They've been investigated by the Bureau for decades now, yet not much is known about them... thats a bit... nerve-wracking.
I turn and open the door to room [103]
The steady hum of the hospital's monitors had become a lullaby I hated. Two weeks since that day-- and he still hadn't opened his eyes.
Every morning, I came to the same white-walled room, sat beside the same bed, and watched Yuwon breathe. His chest rose and fell in that same steady rhythm, his hair slightly longer now, his skin pale against the sheets. It was almost cruel how peaceful he looked.
"I don't even know if you can hear me," I whispered, fingers tracing the edge of the blanket. "You know these past 2 weeks have been very chaotic. Agent Ash had told me you exchanged employment for our lives..."
I chuckled "It sounds like a strange deal but... thank you. I really wouldn't have made it without you."
The words tasted empty. Gratitude felt useless when the person you owed it to wasn't awake to hear it.
Supervisor Ash had stopped by a few times, always with his clipped tone and that same unreadable smile. He said Yuwon's vitals were normal, that his body was fully recovered-- but his mind was somewhere else. Trapped, maybe, in whatever nightmare that mimic had left behind.
The doctors called it a "post-traumatic coma."
The Bureau called it "a temporary setback."
I called it unfair.
Most of the times I'd catch myself talking to him-- about everything that has been chsnging in my life ever since our escape, about the rain outside, about how quiet things felt now that he wasn't scolding me to stay close. Other times, I'd just sit there, staring at his hands. They didn't look like a fighter's hands. More like someone who used to hold a pen or sketch something, before life turned cruel.
"I know you can hear me," I murmured one evening, resting my head on the bed's edge. "You're too stubborn to just… sleep forever, you know."
The faint beeping of the monitor filled the silence that followed. Outside, rain began to fall again.
And for a brief second- just a heartbeat— I could've sworn his fingers twitched.