Anderson had barely closed the door when I tossed the controller aside, already bored out of my mind. The screen in front of me blinked with the paused menu of some overhyped shooter game I "convinced" Anderson to buy last week.
I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my arcpad, the flexglass screen lighting up with a muted glow. A few swipes later, the game interface vanished from the wall display, replaced by a live news feed.
"…and in today's segment: experts are warning that metahuman-related crime has risen 14% in the last quarter alone. Several city governors are pushing for the implementation of mandatory ability licenses, while critics argue—"
I rolled my eyes and flicked across the back of the arcpad. The channel flipped.
"—been reported in over a dozen major cities worldwide. The recurring symbol: a crude drawing of a rising sun, often accompanied by the phrase 'Remember the Dawn.' Authorities have yet to identify—"
Click.
I shut the screen off. A low hum filled the sudden quiet.
"Same old noise," I muttered.
I sat there for a moment, staring blankly at the dark display, then stood with a sigh, stretching the stiffness from my limbs.
I considered stalking Anderson—but quickly killed the thought.
How do you stalk a teleporter? Easy—you don't. Had to learn that the hard way.
A snack run sounded like a decent excuse to get out. I grabbed my bike from the tiny garage unit—also something I "convinced" him to buy—and rolled into the Stockholm evening.
The convenience store wasn't far, but I decided to take the long route. The streets here had a different flavour than Tokyo. Narrower. Quieter. Some buildings gleamed with smart glass, others stood weathered and old. Just the hum of drones and the hiss of electric trams.
I didn't know how long I'd been riding when I heard the commotion—shouts, scuffling, the kind of tension you could feel before you saw it. Curiosity tugged at me, pulling me down a dim alley cluttered with crates and vending machines.
A kid—soaked, panting, arms raised in shaky defiance—stood surrounded by four teens. His soaked hair clung to his face. A small puddle formed around his feet, dotted with empty plastic water bottles. He tried to summon a water shield, but one of the burlier teens batted it away easily, following up with a punch to the gut.
My eyes scanned the attackers. Those books Anderson forced on me were finally useful.
Two had scaled, reptilian skin with glowing eyes—likely permanent transformation types. Another had steel fists—a temporary transformation. And the one who threw the punch? He moved like he was on fast-forward. A physical type. Super speed.
And behind them, slouched against a wall, sat a fifth boy. Bigger. Taller. Casual. Recording on his arcpad.
The wet kid wasn't backing down. Even with bruises forming and blood on his lip, he glared at them with watery defiance.
"I'm done putting up with this shit," the boy spat. "I'm done running."
I blinked.
The words hit me like a ghost from the past. A memory—hazy but sharp—of a boy saying those same words.
The same boy that haunted my dreams.
A beat passed.
Then I sighed, kicked up the bike stand, and rolled forward into the alley.
I slipped between the soaked kid and the bullies, taking them by surprise.
"Will you stop if I ask nicely?" I said, flashing a casual smirk.
The bullies turned, first confused, then annoyed.
One stepped forward. "Who the hell a—"
I didn't let him finish.
I struck the speedster first, slamming a punch into his gut. He folded, retching breakfast onto the pavement.
Steel fists lunged for my head, but I stepped in and dropped him with a knee to the nose.
One of the lizards came next—I grabbed him by the collar and slammed his head into the wall.The other lizard ran—smart choice.
The fight ended before it could even start. No abilities, Just fists. Brutal efficiency, flawless motion.
A shadow loomed behind me. I ducked, and a punch shattered the wall where my head had been. Dust and chunks flew.
The small giant looked down at me.
"You're strong," he said, with a cocky grin. "Maybe I'll use you for training today."
I didn't reply. I raised my right hand.
It glowed soft at first, then flared into hot, flickering blue flame.
His expression shifted. From smug to uncertain.
I launched forward, faster than before. My flaming punch hit his chest dead-on, flames burst from my elbow boosting the impact. It sent him flying across the alley and into the pavement with a crunch.
I turned away, the glow on my arm fading. I dusted off the scorched edge of my sleeve.
The soaked kid stared at me like he'd seen a ghost.
I walked past him, hoping to avoid the inevitable headache.
No such luck.
He hurried after me.
"You're so cool," he said, breathless. "The way you took down those guys—you looked just like a Sentinel!"
I grunted. "I'm not strong. They were just weak."
He didn't even hear the irritation in my voice.
"No, I'm serious! I saw a Sentinel in action once. You could totally be one. That punch at the end? Perfection!"
"I just took them off guard. I still have a long way to go," I said, waving him off.
After all, I still couldn't beat Anderson. Not even when I fought dirty. I swear that man has eyes in the back of his head.
"If only I was half as good as you," the kid said, his voice softening. "Then maybe my dream of getting into Aegis wouldn't be so hopeless."
"You want to go to Aegis?" I stifled a laugh, I'd give an arm to avoid getting into Aegis.
He nodded, then looked away. "Yeah. Everyone laughs. I don't blame them. All I'm good for is party tricks. Sprinkler—that's what they call me."
I stared at him.
I saw a younger version of myself in his slumped posture, once full of hope and dreams. Innocent enough to believe they'll come true
"Your ability isn't weak," I said. "You're just using it wrong. Why the hell would you use water as a shield?"
He stayed quiet.
"You want to be strong? First thing—you train your body. Doesn't matter how flashy your ability is if you can't use it properly. Second—you learn your ability. Understand what it does, what it doesn't, and how to push its limits. Third?"
I glanced over my shoulder.
"Repeat."
The kid looked up at me, eyes wide, mouth slightly open like he hadn't expected someone to actually give him an answer—let alone take him seriously.
"I… already train my ability but it doesn't help," he muttered.
"Yeah, well," I shrugged, "Doesn't matter how hard you push yourself, if you're going in the wrong direction."
He blinked, then laughed softly. "That sounded kind of cool."
I rolled my eyes and started walking again. He followed.
"What's your name?" he asked, stepping in beside me like we'd been friends for years.
I hesitated. "…Anderson. Tobias Anderson."
He grinned. "Sinclair. Viktor Sinclair."
We turned the corner back into the main street. The fading light of the evening painted the storefronts in warm hues, neon signs flickering to life overhead. The convenience store finally came into view.
He followed me in, trailing a step behind like a curious little brother. I grabbed a few random snacks before tossing a drink toward him.
He fumbled it, barely catching it. "For me?"
"Unless you plan to stand there drooling while I eat."
He smiled again, softer this time. "Thanks Toby, for everything."
We stepped back outside. I leaned against the wall, cracking open a drink. Viktor stood awkwardly beside me, sipping his can like he was waiting for permission to talk.
"You said you wanted to go to Aegis Academy," I said, finally breaking the silence. "Why?"
He blinked. "Why?"
"Yeah. Why Aegis? It's a ticket to an early grave."
His shoulders tightened, but his answer came quick.
"Because I want to protect people," he said, with none of the earlier hesitation. "If I can become stronger, maybe people will stop getting hurt. Maybe people like those guys will stop thinking they can do whatever they want."
It wasn't a new answer. I'd heard it before, from idealists, from kids in movies, from people who didn't know how messy the world really was.
But still… there was something raw about the way he said it.
No theatrics. No ego. Just sincerity.
I tossed the empty can into a nearby bin and stood up.
"You're naive," I said.
He looked at me, startled.
"But," I added, "if you're serious about it… then I'll show you some few tricks."
His mouth dropped open. "Wait, for real?"
"Yeah. Starting tomorrow. You'll meet me at that alley at 6 a.m. sharp. No excuses."
He nodded furiously. "Okay! I'll be there!"
"And Viktor ?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't call me Toby again."
The ride back felt longer, probably because I wasn't in a rush. The streets were quieter now, wrapped in the lazy hush of night. Viktor 's voice still rang in my ears, full of that ridiculous mix of hope and naivety.
Protect people, huh?
I parked the bike outside the small apartment unit and wheeled it into the garage. The lights inside were still on, which meant Anderson was back.
I braced myself. He'd probably already heard about the alley incident. Five metahumans out cold doesn't exactly go unnoticed—even if they were losers.
I opened the front door slowly, half-expecting a lecture to fly at me the moment I stepped inside.
Nothing.
The lights were dimmed. Anderson sat on the couch, hunched forward, arms resting on his knees, eyes glued to the floor. A half-empty cup of gin on the table in front of him, forgotten.
He didn't even glance at me.
Weird.
I stepped further in, careful not to make a sound. Still nothing. Just silence—and something heavier hanging in the air. Whatever was going on in that head of his, it had him completely locked in.
That was my cue.
I slid along the wall, past the living room and into the hallway, moving like a ghost. No sound of footsteps, no creaky floorboards. Just smooth, practiced steps. The kind of movement you learn when hiding is second nature.
My bedroom door clicked shut behind me with barely a whisper.
Safe.
I leaned back against it for a second, exhaling the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
Anderson was clearly distracted. And if something had him that deep in thought, then whatever it was… it wasn't good.
But that was a problem for another day.
For now, I had snacks, a quiet room, and a new student to torment in the morning.