CHAPTER 8 — "Masks and Motives"
Morning came not with warmth, but with sterile white lights flickering on across the command center.
Kael slept poorly. Aiden didn't sleep at all.
Now they stood side by side before the suit chamber again—only today, one suit stood alone. Aiden's.
The yellow suit had been modified overnight. Dr. Hart now approached with a small tablet in hand, motioning for Aiden to step onto the fitting platform. Technicians snapped on gloves and began adjustments.
"The energy regulation lining is complete,"
Hart began. "We've incorporated prism-thread capacitor fibers along the spine, arms, and upper torso. This should let you store some of your solar output instead of releasing it immediately."
Aiden flexed his fingers. "Meaning I don't have to worry about overloading the sightlines?"
"Correct," Hart nodded. "Your movements should be fluid. The suit increases overall output while reducing collateral exposure by twenty-three percent."
Kael surprised himself by speaking. "So basically, you now explode less?"
Aiden shot him a look. "Controlled discharge."
Kael grinned faintly. "Fancy."
The suit whirred quietly as it sealed around Aiden, taking its full form. The golden emblem on his chest—the sunburst—lit slowly in synchronization with his breathing.
Hart assessed readings.
"Pulse and power stabilization are matching. Energy conversion rate has improved considerably."
She hesitated. "No modifications were performed on the second suit."
Kael didn't turn his head. "I assumed so."
"We can only proceed once you demonstrate control," she said gently.
Kael shrugged once. "I'll get there."
He walked away before anyone could respond.
The Meaning of Masks
Aiden followed him into a quieter corridor. Kael stood with one hand tucked in his pocket—the regular one.
"The suit looks good on you," Kael said without turning around.
Aiden exhaled. "It's a tool. Nothing more."
"Tools are meant to fix things," Kael replied.
"Maybe lie to yourself more convincingly next time."
Aiden stepped beside him.
"You think wearing a suit changes who I am?"
Kael tilted his head. "No. But it does change how people see you."
"How they see us," Aiden countered.
Kael smirked. "…Yeah. Except I'm the one they want behind a cement wall."
Aiden placed a hand on Kael's shoulder.
"That's why I'll stand between you and whatever comes first."
Kael looked at him for a long moment.
Then nodded, even though part of him wanted to warn Aiden that someday, Aiden shouldn't be between them.
Meanwhile, Across Town…
Midday sunlight filtered through the tall glass windows of First Central Bank. Customers filled the marble hall, clerks stamped papers, security guards casually scanned the crowd.
Nobody noticed the three men entering together.
They wore plain jackets, baseball caps—ordinary. But their eyes were sharp. Cold. Planning.
They split, moving casually until the lobby aligned perfectly.
Martin, the oldest and calmest, narrowed his gaze at the vault door. Jax, twitchy and impatient, tapped fingers against his thigh.
Ryder, the youngest, scanned for security.
"Eyes on the clock," Martin murmured through gritted teeth.
"Three minutes," Ryder whispered.
"And don't get fancy," Martin warned. "In and out."
Jax snorted. "Fancy's not the problem. The problem is we're doing this with pocket pistols."
Martin looked at him sharply. "You wanna raise red flags? You wanna get shot?"
Jax shrugged. "Rather go in blazing than leave empty handed."
Ryder interjected carefully, "Guys… cops will respond fast here. Just don't panic."
Martin nodded. "We do this smooth. No one gets hurt. We're not them."
Jax scoffed but said nothing.
Martin lifted his duffel bag, nodded once, then—
—Everything exploded into motion.
BANG!
Jax fired into the ceiling, shouting:
"EVERYBODY DOWN! NOW!"
Screams echoed. People hit the ground. Security reached for weapons!
BANG!
Jax's second shot hit the wall inches above the guard's head.
"I SAID DOWN!"
The guard dropped his pistol and raised hands.
Martin glared at Jax. "Unnecessary."
Jax shrugged. "Worked."
Ryder secured the entry. Martin moved to the teller desks.
"We're not here to make history," Martin said to the terrified clerk, eyes cold but not cruel.
"Open the vault. Nobody gets hurt if we're done in sixty seconds."
The clerk nodded shakily.
The Chase Begins
Thirty-eight seconds later, they ran out the side entrance, duffel bag full of cash, sprinting for the old black sedan parked by the alley.
Sirens blared in the distance—multiple.
"Fast!" Ryder yelled, diving into the passenger seat.
"I'm going!" Jax shouted, jumping in the back.
Martin floored the engine.
SCREEEEECH—!
The car burst onto the main road.
Police cruisers turned the corner behind them.
"THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE!" an officer called through the loudspeaker.
"STOP THE VEHICLE NOW!"
Jax leaned out the window, firing twice in the air.
BANG! BANG!
"Drive faster!"
Martin gritted his teeth. "Stop shooting, idiot!"
Ryder watched the police approach. "Martin—three cruisers. They're boxing us!"
Martin's hands tightened on the wheel.
"We're losing control!" Ryder shouted.
Martin jerked the vehicle into a hard right turn—
SKREEEEEE— CRASH!!!
The sedan slammed sideways into a concrete divider. Glass shattered. Metal crumpled.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
"Everyone okay?" Martin hissed, trying to move his arm.
"Arm's busted," Jax groaned.
"Get me out!"
Ryder shoved the damaged door open, stumbling into the street.
Police converged.
"FREEZE!" officers shouted. "HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!"
Martin crawled out of the driver's side.
Jax staggered out too, gripping his side.
Ryder saw the cops closing in.
"Martin—what now?!"
Martin looked across the street.
Pedestrians watching.
One man in a business suit—frozen, terrified.
Martin's jaw clenched. "We're not dying here. Jax—grab him."
"No—" Ryder protested.
Too late.
Jax lunged forward and grabbed the civilian from behind, pressing the gun to his neck.
"BACK OFF!" he screamed.
"OR HE DIES!"
Officers froze.
"DROP YOUR WEAPON!" an officer shouted.
"PUT IT DOWN!"
Jax trembled. The gun pressed harder.
Martin didn't blink.
"Everyone stand down," he said quietly to the officers. "We leave in the next car. No heroism."
Ryder looked away, guilt rising.
The hostage whimpered.
In the distance—
Aiden felt something.
A pull.
A pressure.
Fear. Panic.
He straightened.
Without hesitation, he reached for the suit.
Kael saw the change.
"Aiden," he warned.
"People are in danger."
"You're not ready yet—"
Aiden turned, eyes set.
"A kid is screaming for help."
Kael's lips parted.
He stepped back.
Then raised his hand.
"Don't… die."
Aiden nodded.
Then vanished in a blur of light.