Six years earlier.
A deserted street echoed with screams, the sound slicing through the night. In the middle of the road, a full-on brawl was exploding.
"SILAS!! OVER HERE, THERE'S MORE OF THEM!"
"I'M COMING!"
Two young men ran side by side, fighting with the kind of instinctive coordination you only get from surviving a hundred battles together. Their movements matched perfectly—as if each knew exactly where the other would strike.
Then sirens wailed in the distance.
"Already?! They got here fast—SILAS, WE SHO—"
A bat slammed into one of their skulls. A wet crack. Blood sprayed.
He collapsed instantly.
"JOOOHNNN!!! YOU BASTARD! YOU'RE DEAD! LET HIM GO!"
As the other sprinted toward his friend lying in a pool of blood, a taser shot fired.
"AAHHH!! Shit—JOHN, GET UP!"
He ripped the cables out of his skin, screaming.
The man on the ground didn't move.
"Shit… cops are close. John… come on, man, MOVE!"
He shook him—nothing.
A police officer grabbed his shoulder. In one explosive motion, Silas drove an elbow into his jaw, dropping him cold.
"Shit!"
He ran. Didn't look back once.
"Sorry, John…"
Barely conscious, the man on the ground watched his friend disappear into the night.
"Silas… don't leave me… come back…"
Back to the present.
A young man climbed the stairs of his building, breathing hard.
"This… this wasn't supposed to happen…" he muttered.
He shut his apartment door and leaned against it, chest burning.
I need to call Marta.
The phone rang. A familiar voice answered.
"Hello?"
"Marta… I'm screwed. I'm in deep shit, Marta."
Her voice instantly tightened.
"Conor? What's going on? Talk to me!"
"Come to my place. Fast."
"I'm on my way."
Conor wiped the blood from his face, hands trembling. Minutes crawled by until the door finally creaked open. He snatched the knife from the table.
"WH-WHO'S THERE?!"
"It's me, Conor. Calm down," Marta said softly.
He pulled her into his arms. She pressed her palm over his wound, applied a patch, then asked quietly:
"Tell me everything, Conor."
"Alex was getting hassled by some kid. I stepped in… and I screwed up. I hit him, then his boys showed up. We ran. Afterwards, Alex told me that kid is the younger brother of a gang leader."
Marta froze. Conor's voice shook.
"The Osiris," he said. "They sent Alex a message: they're gonna find me and make me pay."
Silence weighed on the room.
"No… no way. Conor, why?!"
"I'm sorry, Marta."
A heavy calm fell. Marta clenched her fists, lifted her chin.
"I can't let you stay like this," she said. "I'm calling my cousin."
Conor stepped back, stunned.
"What? Are you sure? Your whole family talks about him like he's some kind of monster."
"I know."
She dialed. Every ring felt like a countdown.
When he finally picked up, his voice was cold, sharp—each word hitting like a punch.
"Marta? What's going on ?"
"How are you? I… I missed you," she said, hesitant.
"Get to the point," he replied, icy.
"I need you. I might be in serious danger."
"Address. I'm coming."
Minutes later, Marta glanced out the window. A faint smile crossed her lips.
The door opened without a sound.
A man stepped in—his presence alone made Conor's knees weaken.
"Wh—what?! How did you—?"
He walked forward. Heavy steps. A crushing aura.
He stayed in the shadows, the room lit only by the storm outside.
His voice was low, unhurried:
"Sit down, cousin. This is Conor, my boyfr..."
Then, as if dropping a scalpel, he recited details with surgical precision:
" your boyfriend, Recong High School. Conor Merlyn. 03/27/2007. So… you're the one in trouble."
Conor froze.
How the hell did he know all that?
The air around him tightened.
"Yeah… I might've pissed off the Osiris," Conor admitted.
The cousin said nothing.
Rain hammered harder. Lightning flashed, revealing his face for a heartbeat—cold eyes, empty expression, a wall dressed as a human.
Conor felt his stomach twist.
"They don't know about you and Marta, right?" the cousin finally asked.
"No! Our schools are far apart. And when we go out, we stick to places those guys never show up."
The cousin stood, slowly.
"In that case, I don't give a damn. You can die for all I care, as long as Marta's not involved."
Conor went pale. Marta grabbed her cousin's arm.
"No! Please… please, help him!"
The man stood still for a moment, then said, without warmth:
"Marta… you're the only family I have. The only one I acknowledge. If you were in danger, I'd wipe that gang off the map. But if you're not… it's not my problem. If this kid was dumb enough to fight for his friend, he can deal with the fallout."
Marta clung to his arm. Conor exploded:
"Who the hell do you think you are?! Acting all high and mighty—but you're just some guy your own family rejected!"
The cousin turned.
Marta tried to hold him back.
"No… stop… he's too strong, I can't…"
He approached Conor, leaned in.
Lightning lit his face again—his stare cut through Conor like a blade.
"Watch yourself. I could erase the Osiris whenever I feel like it. Imagine what I could do to you."
Marta screamed:
"And what if they find out about us?!"
The man stopped.
"Think about it… if they learn I'm his girlfriend, you think they won't use me to get revenge?"
He loosened his grip on Conor's collar, sat down, lowered his head as if thinking.
A suffocating silence filled the room.
Marta sat beside Conor; both watched the man.
After a long moment, he stood.
"I'll think about it," he said.
He left, the door closing like a final verdict.
Conor got up, frustrated and shaking.
"Who is that guy? Is he gonna help me? That thing? I don't want someone like him involved!"
Marta placed a calm hand on his arm.
"Didn't you say you wanted to stay by my side? He's the only one who can get you out of this without making you leave the city. Please… just be patient."
Conor exhaled, defeated.
"Ugh… fine. If you say so."