Back in India, a jeep sped through the streets of New Delhi. It swerved through the oncoming traffic with such efficiency that it seemed as if something beyond human was at the wheel.
After about an hour of searching, the vehicle finally came to a stop. Then a man stepped out. His hair was dirt-brown and cropped short like a soldier's. His sunburnt, fair skin was riddled with scars hidden beneath his clothes. He wore a white short-sleeved shirt and black khaki pants—practical and efficient, like their wearer.
The man took a look around before finally spotting his destination: an unremarkable shop hidden in a dark alleyway. He slowly made his way inside, half-expecting to be greeted at the front door.
However, the sight that met him made him stop cold in his tracks. There, lying in a pool of her own blood, was Priyanka—the person he was supposed to meet. The scene was gruesome, even for a professional like him. It shook him to his core.
This meant someone was actively hunting them down.
He promptly stepped back outside to gather his thoughts. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took several drags to calm his nerves. With his other hand, he brought out his phone and dialed a number he had memorized over the years.
[Mr. Morbidelli's office, how may I help you?] a youthful voice spoke from the other end.
"Clarice, it's me. Is Marco there? We have a problem." The tension in his voice was palpable.
[Hang on a sec, Sebastian, I'll get him,] Clarice responded promptly, sensing the urgency.
The man was called Sebastian. He waited briefly before a voice came through.
[Seb, what happened?] Marco asked immediately. He knew Sebastian wouldn't call unless it was serious.
This man—Marco Morbidelli—was his brother. When Sebastian's biological parents found out he was special, they had tried to sell him off to the government, leaving him with deep trust issues. If not for the intervention of Marco's parents, who were pretty influential back then, he'd be rotting in a lab somewhere by now. They had adopted him and like him, they were Spikes. But none of his adoptive family were alive anymore—except for Marco.
"Priya was compromised, Marco. They killed her and left her body to rot. I think it's a warning," Sebastian spoke in a heavy tone.
[Damn it. Do we know who the killer is?]
"Negative. They left no traces, other than Priya's body."
[Get yourself out of there. If it's who I think it is, there's going to be trouble. Come back to the U.S. And... bury Priya somewhere nice. It's the least we can do for her,] Marco said, his voice carrying a hint of sadness and concealed anger.
Sebastian quickly set off to clean up the scene and gently placed Priya's body in the trunk. Throughout the whole process, his expression was grim.
He hated it. He hated being hunted. Hated being tossed aside or feared just because he was born different. And most of all, he hated himself for failing to protect the people he cared about.
He still remembered how Marco looked at him that day—begging his big brother to save their parents. But he couldn't. He had been just a powerless child, just like Marco.
Sigh.
He finally snapped out of his thoughts and scolded himself for getting distracted. He planned to bury Priya on a nearby hill, away from the city. He remembered Priyanka mentioning that she liked going there to watch the sunset.
Getting into the driver's seat, Sebastian began driving to his destination, his heart filled with grief and anger.
At Northgate High, Jordan made his way up the stairs to the rooftop. As soon as the final bell rang, signaling the end of the day, Trevor had taken off, leaving only a quick "meet me on the roof."
'Something's off with that bastard', Jordan thought as he pushed open the rooftop door.
The building wasn't huge, but it was still five stories tall. He'd fallen from the rooftop three days prior and, oddly, had only suffered superficial injuries. Even those had healed so fast that he barely noticed them. The sprained ankle? He faked most of it. It healed almost instantly—just like the rest of him.
Heh.
A faint chuckle escaped him as he remembered his handywork. He'd skipped two days of school and had a decent excuse for it. Feeling a bit proud of himself, he spotted Trevor, sitting at the edge of the rooftop with his feet dangling over the side.
His back was facing Jordan as he approached.
"Hey man, you okay?" Jordan asked, noticing Trevor's tense expression.
"Jordan… you know you're not normal, right?" Trevor said without turning around.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jordan blinked, confused. 'The hell is he talking about?'
"Don't you feel it, Jordan? Like you're different from everyone else. Stronger. Faster. More aware. You know what I'm saying, right?"
"I mean… I guess I do heal a bit faster than normal, but I wouldn't say I'm stronger than anyone else," Jordan replied, scratching the back of his head.
"You are, Jordan. Way stronger. You just don't realize it because you only ever spar with me. You're the strongest person I've ever met."
Trevor stood up and turned to face him.
"You remember the gym I took you to? The one you've been using? An average adult male wouldn't even be able to lift the lightest dumbbell there. You, on the other hand, can bench press the heaviest barbell like it's a pillow."
He stepped closer.
"Those weights? They're made from a special alloy—ten times heavier than steel. Do you get it now? You're not normal. And neither am I. We're Spikes, Jordan."
"Spikes? I'm guessing you aren't talking about the pointy ones, right?" Jordan questioned with a dumb expression.
Sigh.
"No, Jordan. That's what we—the enhanced—are called. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" Trevor clarified with annoyance.
This guy—Jordan—was probably messing with him. It's just that he couldn't say for sure. He knew Jordan could be really smart at times, as every Spike was, due to their superior mental capacities. But Jordan was a weird one. He'd be scary smart at times and as dumb as a rock in others.
'Damn it, I'll let Marco handle the rest,' Trevor thought at last.
Jordan, however, was keenly aware of what was going on. He'd known—he'd always known—that he wasn't normal. How else could he have survived that car crash when he was young? He'd literally been buried under rubble, and yet he was left without a scratch.
He knew he was different, but he wasn't willing to accept it before—to accept that it was the reason he'd survived that car crash when his parents had died. Unknowingly, he had put a mental barrier within himself so that he could have the normalcy he so desperately desired.
Trevor's revelation had caused immense conflict within Jordan's mind. Finally, his expression softened as he thought, 'I'm not the only one, huh?... Hownice.' The relief on his face was palpable.
This was caught by Trevor, whose earlier annoyance faded away as he formed a genuine smile. He calmly added,
"You've awakened, Jordan. Follow me. There's someone that wants to meet you."
'Awakened... how childish,' Jordan thought to himself as he followed Trevor down the stairs.
He knew Trevor well enough to know that he just couldn't resist saying it. Unknowingly, a smile had already formed on his lips—maybe change wasn't so bad.