Sirens shrieked, a deafening cry that the city’s evening thrum couldn’t quite drown out. Jace, a silhouette clad in black spandex, flowed across rooftops, each movement a surge of controlled power, not just speed. Pantheon Laboratories, a colossal tower of glass and steel, pierced the horizon. He hauled his phone up, the infrared scan overlaying reality – clusters of heat signatures, trapped figures huddled on a mid-level floor. Hostages. News feeds scrolled across the screen, stark and grim: Pantheon incident… robbery… hostages… casualties confirmed. Four already: three security personnel, one worker – uncooperative, the chilling euphemism flashed. Beneath his mask, Jace’s jaw clenched, anger a cold knot.
He bounded across the last rooftop expanse, landing with a silent roll. Pantheon. His mother… fear, a paralyzing tendril, snaked through him, but he severed it, forcing focus back to the infrared readings. Fiftieth and first floor, robbers had split into groups
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Jace sprinted, every muscle coiled and released, launching himself in a powerful arc towards a darkened window on Pantheon’s 50th floor. The glass imploded inwards with a shattering roar as he crashed through, landing in a combat roll amidst the opulent wreckage of a corner office. Luxury furniture overturned, shattered screens flickered, but his focus locked on the scene before him: three figures, weapons trained on a trembling woman – the Director, her face pale, etched with terror. Two hulking shapes in full body armor, tech-guns raised and spitting sparks, and the third… radiating waves of visible heat, a shimmering aura distorting the air around him. Blaze.
Before they could even register his arrival, Jace moved, a blur of calculated aggression. Blaze, the pyrokinetic, was the primary threat. He lunged, intending to neutralize him instantly. But even as his muscles coiled to spring, a wall of fire erupted, an incandescent barrier roaring into existence, cutting off the room, pushing back the very air with its heat. Blistering waves slammed into Jace, forcing him to stagger back, his eyebrows singeing, the air itself catching in his throat. He’d underestimated Blaze’s immediate, overwhelming defense.
"We got company", Blaze’s voice crackled, distorted by a vocal modulator in his helmet, laced with arrogant amusement. “Fast? meaningless against fire.” Then hell unleashed. Fireballs erupted, not as single projectiles, but a barrage, a dozen incandescent spheres streaking towards Jace, filling the confined space with searing light and heat. Tech-gun fire from the armored robbers joined the assault, energy blasts tearing through the office, ripping through furniture, narrowly missing him as he moved. He didn't just dodge – he leapt and twisted, using his enhanced strength for bursts of impossible agility, turning the office itself into an obstacle course, bouncing off walls, vaulting over desks, fireballs exploding where he’d been moments before, tech-fire scorching the walls inches from his head. He batted away incoming fireballs with powerful forearm blocks, the heat radiating through his suit, searing his skin beneath, the smell of burning fabric filling the air.
Suddenly, Blaze moved, abandoning ranged attacks. The chain, until now coiled at his side, erupted into a searing inferno, licking flames dancing along its length. With a guttural cry, Blaze lashed out, the burning chain a whip of fire arcing towards Jace’s neck. No time to evade. The chain snaked around his throat, biting into his flesh through the spandex, the burning links constricting, choking, searing. Agony flared, raw and immediate, stealing his breath, clouding his vision with white-hot pain.
The two armored robbers pressed their advantage, advancing as Blaze held him captive, tech-guns spitting relentless energy blasts. They were a brutally efficient unit, attacks seamlessly coordinated. Blaze tightened the chain, the burning pressure intensifying, choking him, the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth. The two armored figures hammered at him – armored fists like steel pistons slamming into his ribs, energy blasts concussive against his torso, each impact stealing what little breath he could manage. He was trapped, pinned, overwhelmed. Pain, white and searing, pulsed through him – the burning chain, the relentless impacts – threatening to drown him. Mom… The thought flashed, searing through the pain, a jolt of pure, icy fear, instantly hardening into resolve. He couldn’t fail. Not now.
He roared, a primal sound muffled by the constricting chain and his mask, raw power surging from the depths of his being, and heaved. Not just pulled, heaved, with every fiber of his enhanced muscle screaming in protest. The burning chain strained, metallic links groaning under impossible pressure, then, with a high-pitched snap, shattered, showering sparks and molten fragments, the fiery weight suddenly gone, replaced by the blessed rush of air filling his lungs, the searing agony receding to a throbbing burn. He was free, and unleashed. Rage and cold, focused training surged to the forefront.
He didn't weave, didn't dart – he moved like a battering ram of pure, focused fury. He closed the distance on the two tech-gun wielding robbers in a heartbeat, a blur of motion too fast for them to track. Brutal, bone-jarring strikes followed, amplified by his enhanced strength. Armor buckled and shattered under his fists, bone crunched with sickening finality. They crumpled, unconscious before they even registered what had happened, their useless tech-guns clattering onto the ruined carpet. Blaze, momentarily stunned by the sudden reversal, the chain still sparking on the floor, could only stare in disbelief as Jace turned his full, focused fury upon him.
Ignoring the lingering burn of the chain, the searing pain in his throat, Jace advanced on Blaze with silent, predatory purpose. He closed the distance in ground-eating strides, disregarding the residual heat radiating from the pyrokinetic. Blaze, recovering quickly, unleashed another fireball barrage, a desperate, uncontrolled assault. But Jace didn’t evade, didn’t even flinch. He powered through the inferno, raising his forearms as improvised shields, absorbing the brunt of the heat, suit smoking, skin blistering, pushing forward relentlessly, a human juggernaut of raw will and enhanced muscle. He reached Blaze, closing the final gap in a fraction of a second, a fist like a sledgehammer arcing towards the pyrokinetic’s jaw. The impact was devastating. Blaze’s head snapped back with brutal force, eyes rolling upwards, consciousness flickering and dying, and he crashed to the floor in a smoking heap, the fire around him sputtering and fading, finally still, knocked out cold.
He had to get to the ground level, his mom,the hostages, he had to save them
He dropped through a shattered section of the floor, landing silently in the lobby. His gaze swept across the vast space – chaos reigned. Four hulking armored figures, tech-weapons trained on a terrified mass of employees huddled against the far wall. These weren't just lookouts; they were enforcers, a brutal line of defense holding back any police incursion. Element of surprise, his most potent weapon, remained. He launched himself at the nearest robber, a roar building in his chest, a strength-fueled uppercut that detonated against the armored jaw. The robber, a massive figure in full plate, was lifted bodily off his feet, propelled backwards by the sheer force of the blow. He smashed through the lobby’s reinforced glass doors in a shower of shattering fragments, a thunderous crash echoing as he landed heavily amidst the startled police officers and onlookers gathered outside, effectively creating his own breach point.
Chaos erupted inside. The remaining three armored robbers whirled, tech-guns swiveling wildly, voices cracking with alarm. “Major!?” one barked, his modulated voice strained with panic.
The smaller figure in the center, the one radiating cold command – Major – gestured sharply, dismissively, a chilling lack of concern. “Kill him.”
Two of the armored robbers advanced, weapons immediately switching to lethal engagement. One wielding a gleaming sword in one hand and a spitting enhanced gun in the other, a brutal combination of close-quarters and ranged threat. The other advanced, wielding two short staffs, electrical nodes at their tips crackling with lethal energy. More experienced, more disciplined, undeniably more lethal than the thugs upstairs. Enhanced bullets ripped through the air, slamming into Jace, impacting his chest and abdomen. He braced, absorbing the impacts, gritting his teeth against the jolting force, his focus solely on protecting the hostages huddled behind him, minimizing any stray fire. Pain lanced through him, but he pushed it aside, adrenaline masking the sharp bite. A sword flashed, a silver arc in the dim light, slashing across his side – agony exploded, a searing line of fire. Then, the electrical staffs jabbed, lightning arcing from the nodes, agonizing shocks coursing through his system, muscles spasming uncontrollably, vision swimming. He staggered back, momentarily blinded, disoriented, reeling from the combined assault. Mom… Is she down here? Safe? His gaze darted frantically towards the huddled hostages, searching, his heart hammering against his ribs. Where is she?
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The floor bucked again, a low, groaning tremor resonating through the building. Then, with a ripping sound, a massive chunk of concrete floor tore free from the structure, propelled by unseen force, hurled telekinetically towards him. No time to react, to evade. The concrete slab slammed into his ribs, a bone-crushing blow, sending him flying backwards, impacting a massive support pillar with sickening force, the air exploding from his lungs. He gasped, struggling to stand, vision blurring, pain a roaring wave threatening to overwhelm him.
Major chuckled, stepping forward, a cold, mocking sound that cut through the din of alarms and distant sirens. “Impressive strength, little Valiant. Still… ultimately inadequate.” Jace lunged forward, fueled by raw desperation, ignoring the agony lancing through his side, but Major simply raised a short staff, the electrical nodes sparking menacingly, and jabbed it not at him, but towards the huddled hostages. A woman screamed, a high-pitched shriek of terror, then abruptly cut off, replaced by a sickening silence. One of the hostages, a woman near the front, slumped lifelessly to the floor.
“Next one dies if you even breathe wrong,” Major’s voice, amplified by cold fury, was chillingly calm, utterly devoid of emotion.
Rage, grief for the innocent life lost, and a cold, terrifying focus. Training. Discipline. Control. It all clicked into place, a terrifying clarity amidst the storm of panic and pain. Not reckless rage, not uncontrolled fury. Efficient. Deadly. He feigned retreat, a strategic withdrawal, leaping upwards with explosive strength, towards the ravaged upper floors, vanishing from Major’s line of sight, disappearing into the shadows above. Major snickered, a sound of smug satisfaction, convinced he had broken the enhanced intruder.
Then, Jace returned. Not from the stairs, not from the elevator shaft, but from above, an impossible descent. The reinforced ceiling above the lobby shattered inwards with a deafening roar as he crashed through, landing amidst a torrential rain of debris, plaster dust and shattered light fixtures. He landed in a combat roll, a discarded tech-gun ripped from the unconscious robber upstairs clutched tightly in his hand, still sparking with residual energy. Before Major could even react, process the impossible attack vector, Jace fired. Energy blasts ripped through the air, silent streaks of lethal power tearing into Major’s exposed chest and abdomen. Armor buckled, then shattered under the concentrated fire, drawing a choked cry of pain from the telekinetic as the energy bolts tore through flesh and bone. Major staggered back, doubled over, clutching at his wounds, utter disbelief and raw pain etched on his face, surprised yet again, outmaneuvered, outgunned.
Jace, discarding the emptied tech-gun, hurled the heavy weapon like a javelin, the improvised projectile slamming into the electrical staff wielding robber, the force of impact sending him stumbling back, staffs flying from his grip. He closed the distance to the sword-wielder in a blur of motion, snatching up one of the discarded electrical staffs as he moved, the crackling energy singing in his hand. He parried a wild, desperate sword slash with the staff, the electrical charge arcing and crackling against the blade, deflecting the deadly steel. Overwhelming the robber with brutal, focused aggression, he pressed his attack, a relentless flurry of blows, staff humming with power, disorienting and weakening the armored figure. Then, with a final, powerful sweep of the staff, he knocked the sword-wielder off balance, sending him crashing to the floor, and used the man’s own armored legs to execute a brutal leg sweep on the remaining electrical staff wielding robber, sending him sprawling backwards as well.
Major, wounded but consumed by a white-hot fury, roared, rising to his feet, telekinesis flaring to life around him. Desks, chairs, overturned equipment, chunks of debris – everything not nailed down in the ruined lobby ripped free from the floor and walls, swirling around him like a vortex, a chaotic, telekinetic tornado aimed directly at the huddled, terrified hostages.
No time for finesse. No room for strategy. Only instinct remained. Jace moved, putting himself directly between Major and the hostages. And then, with a roar that ripped from his throat, fueled by adrenaline, fear, and a primal protectiveness, he clapped his hands together with earth-shattering force, channeling every ounce of his enhanced strength into a single, desperate act. The resulting sonic boom ripped through the lobby, a shockwave of pure force tearing through the air. The telekinetic projectiles faltered mid-flight, buffeted by the invisible force, their trajectories wavering, then reversed, slamming back towards their originator, a hail of debris impacting Major with brutal force. Glass shattered in every window and display case in the lobby, the concussive shockwave rippling outwards, buffeting Jace, momentarily deafening and disorienting him, but he held his ground, protecting those behind him.
He moved in on Major, finding the telekinetic collapsed amidst the wreckage of his own attack, impaled by shards of glass and debris, still struggling weakly, flickering telekinetic energy sparking around him. He reached down, grabbed Major by the neck with a viselike grip, lifting the wounded telekinetic effortlessly. As he raised Major high above his head, intending to slam him into the ruined floor and end it, a searing wave of unimaginable heat exploded outwards, engulfing him. Blaze! A colossal fireball, far larger and hotter than anything before, erupted from the downed pyrokinetic, catching Jace point-blank. His suit erupted in flames, skin seared, agony blooming anew as the force of the blast hurled him backwards, sprawling amidst the wreckage, the world blurring at the edges.
He pushed himself up through the smoke and flames, suit smoking, skin a raw, throbbing canvas of pain. Blaze, battered and scorched but conscious, unleashed another desperate barrage of fireballs, the lobby erupting in flames. Major, coughing and bleeding but not broken, telekinetically ripped at the structural pillars of the building, groaning sounds echoing through the collapsing space. They were making a run for it, trying to bring the entire building down to cover their escape.
No. Not while his mother, not while any of the hostages were inside.
Ignoring the screaming agony, Jace blitzed Blaze again, raw speed and power carrying him forward. A brutal shoulder tackle, fueled by adrenaline and desperation, connected with the pyrokinetic with the force of a runaway train, sending Blaze flying unconscious across the burning lobby, crashing into a wall of flames, and finally, stilling. Turning to Major, he saw the ceiling above them beginning to buckle, groaning ominously, sections of the 37th floor collapsing inwards. Major was already scrambling for escape, scrambling towards a shattered window, stolen tech clutched in his hand, abandoning the hostages to their fate.
Hostages first. Always. Mom first. He scanned the huddled group again, desperate, his gaze locking onto a familiar figure huddled near the back, a woman with familiar hair, familiar clothes, fear etched on her face, but alive. Mom! Relief and terror warred within him. He had to get them all out.
He roared, a voice of command that cut through the cacophony of alarms, fire, and collapsing structure, ushering the terrified hostages towards the shattered lobby doors, towards the uncertain safety beyond, towards the waiting police barricades. Then, with a final surge of adrenaline-fueled strength, he leaped upwards, towards the ravaged upper floors, towards the Director, towards the 37th floor, every muscle screaming in protest, every nerve ending firing with pain.
He reached the 50th floor, finding the Director, miraculously unharmed amidst the devastation, along with the two subdued robbers. He scooped up the Director, cradling her gently in one arm, the two unconscious robbers slung heavily over his shoulders. Outside, through the gaping holes in the building’s facade, Pantheon groaned and shuddered, sections of the upper floors visibly collapsing, dust and debris raining down. No time for elevators, no time for stairs.
He braced himself against the window frame, adrenaline screaming through his veins, the weight of three bodies suddenly insignificant, and jumped. Thirty-seven floors, an impossible plummet for any normal human.
Below, police officers and the first wave of rescued hostages watched in stunned, horrified silence as Pantheon Laboratories began to crumble and die, sections collapsing like a house of cards. Then, a black streak detached itself from the collapsing tower, plummeting from an impossible height. Jace fell, a dark meteor against the smoke-filled evening sky, impacting the ground with a ground-shaking thud, the shockwave rippling outwards, but emerging from the dust cloud, impossibly, unharmed. He deposited the two unconscious robbers at the police line, then gently placed the Director onto a waiting stretcher, paramedics rushing to her side.
His gaze scanned the rescued crowd, heart still hammering against his ribs, a desperate, frantic search. Mom… Please be okay… And then he saw her. His mother, wrapped in a thermal blanket, being checked over by paramedics, her face pale but her eyes wide and alive. Relief washed over him, so potent it almost buckled his knees, a wave so intense it stole his breath. The crushing weight of fear, the agonizing worry, lifted, vanishing as quickly as it had arrived, an ironic lightness considering he was still carrying the accumulated weight of the day’s brutal fight, the injuries, the burns, the sheer exertion.
Without a word, without a backward glance, he leaped again, vanishing into the smoke-filled evening shadows, disappearing back towards the Red Oven Pizzeria, the familiar escape hatch. He landed inside the deserted pizzeria, the lingering scent of stale tomato sauce suddenly a strangely comforting anchor in the chaos. And then, as the adrenaline finally, irrevocably, drained away, the dam of pain broke. His vision swam, the world tilting at a sickening angle, and the gritty pizzeria floor rushed up to meet him. Blackness claimed him, a merciful oblivion descending.
