The abandoned airport stretched endlessly under the moonlight, its ruined buildings casting jagged shadows. The control tower stood lifeless, its shattered windows resembling hollow eyes. Rusted airplanes lay scattered across the cracked tarmac, their skeletal remains blending with the eerie silence. Jace moved with Lynx, Spectre, Beta, and Zeta, their steps light against the dust-covered floors of the old terminal. His new Spandex suit felt stiff but lightweight, making every movement fluid and controlled. A quiet voice crackled in their earpieces—Lucian.

  "Lynx, you’re in charge. The objective is recon. Find proof that The Maker operates here and report back. Nothing more. No heroics."

  Jace scowled. Nothing more? Beta snickered beside him. “Did he just say ‘no heroics’? Damn, Dynamo, that’s basically a personal attack.”

  Jace sighed, already feeling the incoming ridicule. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah, sure, buddy,” Zeta chimed in with a smirk. “You got a whole brand now. Mr. ‘Runs Into Fire First, Asks Questions Never.’”

  Jace groaned. “I don’t always—”

  “You guys are the worst,” Jace muttered as they pressed forward.

  They moved past security checkpoints, broken luggage carts, and faded travel posters peeling from the walls. Beyond a shattered window, rows of vehicles sat idle in the shadows. Something felt off. Jace crouched, squinting at the lineup of trucks and vans. “That’s too many vehicles for a place that’s supposed to be abandoned.”

  Lynx gave a curt nod. “Beta, Zeta—see what they’re carrying.”

  The twins exchanged a glance before slipping into the darkness, their movements silent and precise. Jace watched Spectre scanning the area with a small device, its screen pulsing with shifting heat signatures. She frowned slightly. “There’s movement deeper in the terminal. Not civilians.”

  “Henchmen?” Jace asked, his pulse steadying.

  Spectre nodded. “At least a dozen, maybe more.”

  Jace exhaled slowly, tension creeping into his muscles. He turned to Lynx. “So what now?”

  “We keep moving.”

  The team advanced through the derelict concourse, past empty kiosks and overturned chairs. The silence felt unnatural, like the entire building was holding its breath. Then Zeta’s voice crackled in Jace’s earpiece.

  “We got a problem.”

  Jace, Lynx, and Spectre met them behind an overturned baggage carousel. Zeta’s usual smirk was gone, replaced by something colder. “We checked the trucks.”

  Beta crossed his arms. “They’re not moving cargo.”

  Jace frowned. “Then what are they—”

  Zeta jerked her head toward a modified garbage truck that seemed to be crushing something. The others turned just in time to see henchmen dragging bodies toward it.

  Jace’s stomach dropped. His breath hitched as a limp, pale arm slipped from one of the bags. He felt something snap inside him. Before anyone could stop him, he was already moving.

  He slammed into the first henchman like a battering ram, sending the man crashing against the truck’s steel plating. The second barely had time to react before Jace grabbed him by the collar and hurled him into a pile of crates. A third man drew a gun, but Jace caught his wrist, twisting it until something snapped before launching a knee into his ribs. Another came at him with a knife—Jace caught the blade mid-swing, yanked it from the attacker’s grip, and buried his fist in the man’s gut. Within seconds, the henchmen were groaning on the ground, barely conscious.

  Panting, Jace grabbed the nearest one and slammed him against the truck. His voice came out low and sharp. “Where is The Maker?”

  The man choked on his own blood but weakly pointed toward the main hangar. That was all Jace needed.

  He stormed inside, his voice booming through the cavernous space. “MAKER!”

  Immediately, henchmen swarmed.

  Jace tore through them with brutal efficiency, moving like a wrecking ball with purpose. His fists shattered ribs, his elbows snapped jaws, and every kick sent bodies flying. They came at him with pipes, knives, even tasers—but none of it mattered. The air filled with the sounds of breaking bones and desperate shouts. By the time the last man hit the floor, Jace had lost count. Thirty, maybe more. One of them, barely conscious, pointed toward an old elevator.

  Jace didn’t hesitate.

  He punched through the floor and leapt down.

  The underground air was thick with blood and chemicals. A dim, flickering light barely illuminated the horror before him—rows of cages, filled with malnourished prisoners, their eyes hollow. Others were strapped to machines, wires buried into their arms, their bodies twitching involuntarily. Jace’s stomach churned. What kind of place was this?

  Then, movement.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Three figures emerged from the darkness, their bodies twisted and unnatural. Blades jutted from their arms, their skin marred with grotesque enhancements. Their eyes gleamed in the dim light before they lunged.

  Jace barely ducked the first swipe as a razor-sharp blade missed his throat by inches. He caught the attacker’s wrist, twisting hard enough to hear bone snap, before delivering a brutal knee to the gut. The second came from behind—Jace spun, catching him mid-charge and slamming him into a steel beam. The third managed to grab him, lifting Jace and hurling him into a reinforced wall, leaving a dent in the metal.

  Jace gritted his teeth, pushing past the pain. He leapt forward, flipping midair to slam his boot into the enhanced’s skull, dropping him instantly As the last enhanced crumpled, Jace’s eyes locked onto a figure at the far end of the chamber.

  The Maker, he was running.

  Jace pivoted, then grabbed Lynx by the collar and flung him forward like a human missile.

  Lynx twisted midair, claws flashing as he reached for The Maker’s back—

  Then- BOOM !!!

  The Maker’s body exploded.

  Lynx barely managed to activate his holographic shield before the blast sent him skidding across the floor. Debris rained down, the room shaking from the force.

  Jace shielded his eyes, coughing through the dust cloud. His pulse pounded in his ears.

  They had him, and now he was gone.

  Beta and Zeta cursed as they got up. Spectre dusted off her suit, her face unreadable.

  Jace exhaled sharply, hands trembling as he turned to the cages.

  Without a word, he sprinted forward, tearing open the doors with raw strength.

  “Dynamo! We are far from mission objectives,” Lynx called. “Don’t further break rules.”

  Jace shot him a glare. “To hell with rules.”

  One by one, he freed the captives, ignoring the others.

  Then—something was wrong.

  Suddenly, his body tilted. His limbs felt heavy, his ears rang with a high-pitched frequency that grew sharper by the second. His knees buckled, vision blurring, as the world spun around him. He barely registered Lynx raising a weapon before a sharp sting hit his back. As he fell to the floor unable to move Jace locked onto spectre as she slipped something into her pocket. A detonator.

  His mind raced, but his body couldn't react. Then Lynx pulled out his phone—presumably to make a call. The last thing he saw before darkness consumed him

  Jace woke with a sharp inhale, his muscles immediately tensing against cold, unyielding restraints. His wrists and ankles were strapped down, the firm bite of reinforced material digging into his skin. The dim, sterile light above cast harsh shadows, making the room feel eerily similar to his first day in the CDE. The walls were bare, the silence suffocating. He flexed his fingers, testing the restraints, but they held firm. His patience snapped quickly.

  "Hello?!" His voice rang out, laced with anger and frustration. "You bastards seriously tying me down now?!" His voice echoed, swallowed by the empty room.

  Minutes crawled by in agonizing silence before the heavy steel door slid open. Lucian stepped inside, his expression thunderous, a storm of barely contained rage simmering beneath his cold eyes. Without a word, he strode toward the control panel beside Jace’s horizontal restraints and pressed a button. A mechanical hum filled the air as the chair-like bed Jace was strapped to slowly tilted upright, forcing him into a standing position. His feet dangled just above the ground, giving him no leverage.

  Jace barely had time to process before Lucian raised his right arm and tugged off the black glove covering his hand. The sight made Jace’s breath hitch for just a second—Lucian’s hand was not flesh and bone but a metallic construct, sleek yet menacing, with visible reinforced plating along the knuckles. It gleamed under the light, and Jace’s gut twisted in instinctive unease.

  His mind snapped back into focus, anger overriding confusion. "What the hell is going on—?"

  The question barely left his mouth before Lucian drove his metal fist into Jace’s gut.

  Pain exploded in his stomach like a shockwave. His body jerked forward against the restraints, a strangled gasp escaping him as air was forced from his lungs. His head dropped, chin hitting his chest as he coughed violently, struggling to breathe.

  Lucian loomed over him, eyes burning with pure, unfiltered contempt. "Damn you and your repulsive kind." His voice was venomous, seething with disgust. "You enhanced freaks walk around thinking yourself powerful and mighty, using your disgusting abilities to spread disorder in an already chaotic world.

  Jace clenched his jaw, his body still reeling from the impact, but he forced himself to meet Lucian’s gaze. He refused to look weak in front of this man.

  Lucian leaned in, his breath slow and deliberate. "Just because you can break natural law doesn't mean the laws don't apply to you. And I will make you understand that."

  With a slow, deliberate motion, he grabbed Jace’s face with his metallic hand, the cold, unyielding metal pressing against his skin. Jace could feel the pressure, the sheer strength behind it, even without Lucian squeezing. Then, with a flick of his wrist, Lucian turned Jace’s head toward the wall.

  A screen flickered to life.

  Jace’s blood ran cold.

  Images of his mother, Leo, and his parents appeared— candid shots, taken at different times of the day. His mother outside their house. Leo laughing at something on his phone. His parents leaving a grocery store. The angles were too perfect, too precise. These weren’t random pictures. These were surveillance shots.

  His stomach twisted into a cold knot.

  Lucian’s voice dropped to something even more chilling. "I have people on them 24/7."

  Jace’s pulse pounded in his ears. He strained against the restraints, his body coiling with fury. "You son of a—"

  Lucian tightened his grip on Jace’s face, fingers digging in just enough to remind him of his position. His next words were delivered with quiet, razor-sharp precision. "The next time you disobey an order... you will watch as each and every one of their nails and teeth are pulled out."

  Jace’s breath hitched. His entire body locked up, frozen in a mix of horror and rage.

  Lucian wasn’t done. "I will learn the pain threshold of a mother and a best friend. And then, when you have nothing left, you will spend the rest of your life in solitary confinement— replaying that moment over and over in your head."

  Jace's face twisted with unfiltered fury, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. His fists clenched as much as the restraints allowed, his nails digging into his palms. He didn’t care about himself—but his mother? Leo? Lucian was threatening the people he loved. His heart pounded like a war drum, a fire roaring in his chest, consuming his fear and leaving only the sharp edges of rage.

  Lucian saw it. And smiled.

  Then, without warning, he slammed another punch into Jace’s gut.

  Jace choked on his own breath, a guttural sound escaping him as fresh pain tore through his core. His body convulsed, his head hanging forward as he struggled against the nausea creeping up his throat.

  Lucian spat on him. The warm, disgusting sensation landed on his cheek, sliding down his skin.

  Then, just like that, he turned on his heel and walked toward the exit.

  The door hissed open, and Lucian paused in the doorway. He glanced over his shoulder, his tone completely void of emotion. "Remember this feeling, Dynamo."

  The door shut with a cold, final click, plunging Jace into silence.

  His breathing was erratic, his body trembling—not just from the pain, but from the sheer fury boiling beneath his skin. His mind raced, cycling between the image of his mother and Leo on that screen and Lucian’s threats.

  For the first time in a long while, he felt something deeper than anger.

  Something darker. Jace gritted his teeth, his jaw so tight it ached.