how many word is this Red emergency lights pulsed across New York, painting streets, barricades, and screaming civilians in hellish streaks. Sirens shredded the night, merging with frantic shouts into a chaotic symphony no one could control. Somewhere inside the containment facility, something had broken free. The city trembled beneath it.
At the top floor, above the chaos, someone stirred.
Vex.
She pushed the heavy cell door open. Bare feet scraped cold tile. Her hospital gown clung to her thin frame, streaked with old blood and smeared with fresh. Damp hair fell across her face in tangled strands, hiding eyes that burned with fear, fury… and something wild, unshaped. Each step pushed the air away, as if the hallway itself resisted her.
"STOP!" a guard barked, panic sharpening his tone.
Boots thundered behind him—three more guards, weapons raised, faces pale. Their leader swallowed hard, hands trembling despite the effort to seem steady.
"Command, I have eyes on her. Subject Vex. Attempting verbal compliance," he stammered into his shoulder mic. "Vex… return to your cell. Don't make this worse."
She didn't move. Didn't blink. She just breathed—too fast, too sharp. The air seemed to recoil from her.
"Okay… I won't ask again. Get back in—"
A concussive blast shredded the hall.
The leader dropped instantly, collapsing as if gravity had doubled. The others froze, shock painted across their faces. No weapon moved. No one lunged. A subtle twitch of her fingers bent reality itself.
One guard's eyes widened. Tears pooled. "You're gonna… y-you're gonna pay for—"
He never finished. His feet lifted, body tilting like a puppet caught in invisible strings. A sharp crack echoed. He crumpled, lifeless.
The last guard's grip on his rifle shook violently. Backup was coming. He could hear it. Feel it. But it didn't matter. Panic overrode thought.
He fired.
Bright bolts scorched the walls, singeing tiles. Smoke curled into the air. Vex moved through it untouched. A ripple of heat and force bent every attack aside. Her chest rose and fell unevenly as she passed through flames that should have burned her alive.
"P-please…" the guard whispered, hands trembling, voice breaking. "I… I don't—"
Instinct answered for her. A pulse of invisible force slammed him into the wall. He slid limp to the floor.
Footsteps thundered from the stairwell. She didn't wait. Claws of desperation scraped the railing as she climbed faster than echoing shouts below. Gunfire cracked. Glass shattered. Chaos poured upward. Still, she pressed on.
The roof door loomed. She shoved it open. Night tore at her skin, whipping her gown like a banner. Helicopter blades churned the sky. Sirens screamed. The city sprawled below, impossibly small, inconsequential.
Freedom.
Her chest heaved. Lungs burned. Sweat streaked her face. She dared a step toward the edge—but then the air shifted.
It went still.
Even distant sirens seemed to hesitate.
She sensed him before she saw him.
Inferno.
He was already there, back turned, cape fluttering in the rooftop wind. Molten light radiated from his skin, bathing the city in gold. Hands folded behind him, posture calm, implacable. His presence pressed against her chest, a quiet gravity tightening her throat.
"You know," his voice cut through the silence, soft, cold enough to freeze blood, "I find it… interesting that someone like you would choose today… of all days… to ignore orders." His words carried more than observation—an almost imperceptible curiosity, measuring limits.
She froze. Bare feet pressed against tiles, searching for purchase against the tide of awe and fear rolling over her.
Inferno didn't turn. Didn't need to. She knew every line of his body, every potential motion. A mountain of molten calm. And now he studied her—patient, calculating, as if deciding whether she was worth testing.
Her own power thrummed beneath her skin, wild and unshaped. Fear tangled with exhilaration. Muscles coiled, pulse hammering. She staggered slightly, caught between running, fighting, vanishing. Fingers dug into the rooftop edge. Heart racing, chest heaving, she felt his weight pressing down—quiet and absolute.
A gust ripped at the rooftop, tugging her gown, her hair, the fragile confidence coiling in her chest. She closed her eyes. Felt the city breathe beneath them. Chaos below clawed at the calm above.
Choice. Freedom had never been this complicated. Escape was one thing—standing here, knowing she could defy or submit, was another.
He spoke again, voice a low hum of molten authority. "Power without control is chaos. You've felt it. Felt what it can do. And yet… you run. Why, Vex? Fear? Defiance? Or… something else?" The faint tilt of his head hinted at more than judgment—an unspoken challenge.
Her eyes snapped open. Rage. Fear. Desire. All tangled, impossible to sort. She didn't back down. She had fought too long to crumble now. Not to him. Not yet.
A pulse of wind surged past them. The city's chaos crashed against the calm of the rooftop. Under a red-lit sky and the molten glow of the strongest hero alive, Vex realized that freedom was never just escape.
It was choice.
And right now… she didn't know if she wanted to choose.