Location: Alleyway – The Night Everything Changed
The rain came down in thick sheets, drowning the neon glow of the city under a veil of silver. The air smelled of gasoline, blood, and regret.
Ray and Trice stood in the alleyway, backs pressed against the cold concrete wall, breath heavy, bodies tense. They had seen the reports, dug into the classified files, and uncovered the truth so twisted and horrific it shattered everything they thought they knew.
Sable had lied.
They weren't soldiers.
They were weapons.
"We have to go, Ray."
Trice's voice was low and steady, but the weight behind it was undeniable.
Ray exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on the pistol at his side. "Yeah... but what about Jeff?"
Trice's jaw clenched. Jeffrie wouldn't leave. Not yet. Not without proof. His loyalty was unwavering, built on years of trust and belief in the mission.
He would follow orders.
Even if it meant hunting them down.
Ray ran a hand through his soaked hair, frustration burning behind his dark eyes. "He won't believe us without seeing it for himself. Hell, I barely believe it."
Trice nodded. "That's why we don't tell him. Not yet."
Ray stared at him, shoulders tense. "You're saying we just... leave him?"
Trice hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. We left him. Let him think. Let him come for us if he must. When it all crashes down around him—he'll see the truth. And when that happens, we'll be waiting."
A long silence stretched between them, broken only by the rain tapping against the pavement.
Then, without another word, they turned and disappeared into the night.
Leaving behind the only brother they had ever known.
For now.
Location: Forest Trail – Weeks Later
Days turned into weeks. The rain stopped. The neon lights faded into memory.
Ray and Trice had vanished into the cracks of the world, leaving Jeffrie with nothing but silence and suspicion.
But silence never lasted.
The search begins.
First it was satellite pings. Then a stolen vehicle. Then a fake ID used at a fuel depot two towns over. Every trail they followed ended in ash. Ray and Trice weren't just running—they were covering their tracks like ghosts.
Jeffrie hadn't slept in days. Not really. His cot stayed cold while the others rotated shifts. Even Lily had stopped trying to coax him into rest.
He spent every waking hour combing through reports, chasing whispers, tightening the net one thread at a time. The more he searched, the more he saw the pattern.
They wanted to be found.
But only by him.
On the third night, when the silence got too loud, Lily sat beside him by the comms rig. Her fingers brushed lightly against his knuckles. "You're burning yourself out," she whispered. "Don't forget how to breathe." She didn't ask him to stop. She just stayed, her hand over his, holding the storm back.
The next evening, while they hiked across a rocky ridge, Sophia matched his pace, shoulder to shoulder. She didn't speak. She just let the edge of her fire brush against his aura—warm, steady, a low flicker that wrapped around his rage like a blanket. "You don't have to carry it alone," she murmured once. He didn't answer, but he didn't pull away either.
When exhaustion started to bend his posture and his eyes grew distant, Azul stepped in. She tightened the straps on his pack without asking, then slipped a new energy patch into his palm. "Still tracking their biosigns," she said softly. "You just focus on being human." She nudged his shoulder. "Let me do the rest." He almost smiled.
Scarlett waited until a failed lead—an empty warehouse—left him standing in the dark, fists clenched and shaking. She approached from behind, looped her arms around his waist, and leaned her head against his back. "You're not a machine, Hotshot," she said into the silence. "You break, too. And when you do... I'll be the one putting your pieces back together." She held on tight, and this time, he let her.
Raven was last. She found him during watch, staring out into the trees with the weight of too many years on his shoulders. She didn't touch him. She just stood beside him, silent for a while, then said, "You ever think they're hurting as much as you are?" Jeffrie blinked. "They didn't leave you, Jeff. They left the system. Big difference." Her words cut through the fog.
On the fifth night, they reached a clearing outside an abandoned radio tower deep in the forest. A campfire had been lit—recently. A coffee can was still warm. And next to it, carved into the bark of a half-burnt tree, were three letters:
J. R. T.
Jeffrie froze.
"They were just here," Azul murmured, scanning the site. "Twelve hours, max. Maybe less."
Raven crouched near the fire pit, touching the embers. "They knew we'd come."
"Then why didn't they wait?" Scarlett growled.
Jeffrie didn't answer. He stared at the carving, heart pounding, fingers twitching with energy just under the skin. It wasn't a message.
It was a memory.
A place they used to train near when they were still cadets. Before the war. Before the lies.
"They're circling us," he muttered. "Watching. Testing how far I'll go."
Sophia looked at him. "And how far will you go?"
Jeffrie didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped away from the fire and scanned the tree line. Branches broken. Tracks faint in the dirt. Not much, but just enough.
He took off running.
"A few hours ago."
POV: Trice
The fire was low now. Just soft embers glowing under a ring of rocks. Trice sat with his back against a tree, the data-pad balanced on his knee, its blue glow flickering across his tired features. They'd cracked most of the files last night. The rest would open soon.
Inside: Sable's lies, the surgeries, the manipulation—all of it.
Proof that they were never soldiers.
Just weapons wrapped in skin.
He should've felt satisfied. But all he felt was cold.
Across the clearing, Ray was pacing again, agitated and anxious, as usual. But Trice didn't need to ask why. He already knew.
The silence between them was heavier than any rain they'd walked through. They didn't have to say it aloud: Jeffrie was coming.
And Trice wasn't ready.
Not because he feared the fight.
But because he feared the look in Jeffrie's eyes when he realized they had left him behind.
Again.
Trice leaned his head back against the bark and stared up at the moonlit branches. His mind wandered—like it always did when he couldn't breathe.
Back to the alley.
The first time they met Jeffrie.
Fifteen years ago, in the middle of a rain-soaked street, three teenage boys had fought side-by-side against a small army of street thugs. Jeffrie had stepped in without hesitation—no powers, no gear, just fists and fire in his eyes.
"You guys suck at teamwork," Jeff had said, grinning through a split lip.
Ray had laughed. Trice had scowled. But from that day on, they were a unit.
Back then, Trice had nothing. Just fists and scars. Jeffrie gave him structure. Ray gave him chaos. Together, they gave him purpose.
So how the hell did it come to this?
He glanced at the data-pad, jaw clenched.
This betrayal wasn't about the mission. It was personal. Because breaking away from the system meant breaking away from Jeffrie—and that hurt worse than any wound he'd ever taken.
POV: Ray (Canon-Aligned, Powerful & Emotional)
Ray crouched low beside the fire, watching the embers dance. The forest was too quiet. His chest felt too loud.
"You remember the alley, right?" he asked, voice rough. "Back when everything started."
Trice didn't move. "How could I forget? We were outnumbered six-to-one. Rain was coming down like knives."
Ray chuckled, but it wasn't happy. "Yeah. You and me were already throwing hands, trying to hold our own. But we were getting wrecked."
He paused, voice lowering. "And then Jeffrie showed up."
Trice nodded slowly. "Thought he was crazy. Ran straight into the middle of the fight like he was bulletproof."
Ray's eyes darkened. "He wasn't."
Trice glanced over.
Ray continued, "One of those punks had a gun. Pulled it on me when I tried to break for the street."
Trice's brow furrowed. "Yeah. I remember you ducking, and then—"
"Jeff didn't duck," Ray said, quietly. "He shoved me down and took the hit in the shoulder."
Silence.
Trice's eyes widened slightly. "Wait. He what?"
Ray looked him dead in the eye. "You didn't see it. I didn't either—not until later. He was bleeding the whole time, still swinging like it was nothing."
Trice leaned back against the tree, stunned. "He never told me."
"Because that's who he is," Ray murmured. "All this time, we thought we had his back. But from day one, he was the one carrying us."
He pulled the worn photo from his vest and stared at it—three younger, dumber kids smiling in a world that never wanted them.
"That's why this hurts," Ray said. "Not because we left the system. But because we left him."
The fire cracked softly, but something shifted in the air.
Trice's head snapped up.
Footsteps—light, fast, deliberate. A low crunch of leaves. The sound of branches shifting just beyond the trees.
Ray heard it too. He was already on his feet, eyes locked on the treeline.
Trice grabbed the data-pad and stuffed it into the inside pocket of his jacket. "They're here."
Ray didn't need to ask who. Only one person moved like that. Only one person tracked like that. Jeffrie.
"They're close," Trice muttered. "Two hundred meters, maybe less."
Ray took a breath, then exhaled slow. "We doin' this?"
Trice checked his gauntlets, flexing his fingers as the energy core hummed to life. "We don't have a choice."
Ray smirked, but there was no joy behind it. "Damn. Guess I better not hold back."
They moved fast and quiet, scattering their scent trail and grabbing what little gear they had left. The campfire was kicked out, buried. No signs. No clues. But not because they were running.
They weren't running anymore.
This was staging.
This was strategy.
They knew Jeffrie would come in hot—angry, betrayed, boiling over with confusion and fire. They needed to take the first hit, weather it, and stay standing long enough for him to listen.
Ray loaded two rounds into his pistol and holstered it. He didn't plan to use it, but the weight was grounding.
"You ready for this?" he asked, glancing at Trice.
Trice nodded. "Been ready."
Now, the only glow came from the moon cutting through the forest canopy, and the only sound was the steady rhythm of pursuit.
Jeffrie was on their trail.
The cold wind cut through the trees, rustling the leaves as Jeffrie prowled forward, his boots sinking into the damp earth. His breath came in steady, controlled exhales, but his body was running hot. The heat of battle was already coursing through his veins.
Ray and Trice were close—he could feel it.
"They can't run forever," Jeffrie growled, eyes locked on the fading footprints ahead.
Behind him, his women followed in formation, though their movements were hesitant compared to his. Lily, ever the healer, was watching him closely. Sophia gripped her flames tightly, prepared but concerned. Scarlett walked with tension in her steps, her gaze flicking between Jeffrie and the shadows ahead. Raven was the quietest, her eyes calculating. Azul moved with sharp precision, scanning their surroundings with his interface.
They weren't just following him.
They were watching him.
"Jeff, you need to slow down," Lily called out, voice soft but firm. "You've been going nonstop."
"I'm fine," he snapped, not looking back.
No one spoke after that.
Because no one believed him.
Jeffrie could feel their stares, their unspoken concerns—but none of it mattered.
Ray and Trice had betrayed them.
They turned their backs on everything they fought for.
And now it was his job to end it.
The first ambush came at sunset.
Ray and Trice were waiting for them—not running, not hiding, but ready.
Ray smirked, his stance loose but prepared. "Damn, Brudda. Took you long enough."
Jeffrie didn't respond.
He charged.
The first clash of fists and steel sent a shockwave through the clearing.
Jeffrie struck first, his blade arcing fast—Ray ducked, rolled, and countered with a brutal uppercut to Jeffrie's ribs.
Pain flared in Jeffrie's side, but he barely registered it. He twisted, bringing his elbow down toward Ray's back—Ray spun away, fluid as ever.
A blur to his left—Trice.
Jeffrie barely had time to block before Trice's kick sent him sliding back. His feet dug into the dirt, body adjusting mid-movement. He wiped a streak of blood from his mouth, eyes flashing.
"Cuzzi, you sure you wanna do this?" Trice's voice was calm, almost regretful.
Jeffrie spat to the side. "You made your choice, cuzzo. Now live with it."
And then they were on him again.
Blow after blow, strike after strike—Jeffrie fought like a beast unchained. His strength and speed kept him in the fight, but Ray and Trice fought differently than before. They weren't trying to kill him. They were trying to wear him down.
His women moved to engage, but Ray barked, "Stay back! This ain't your fight."
They hesitated—because it was true.
This was Jeffrie's fight.
And he wasn't losing.
They clashed again. And again. And again.
For two days straight, the battle stretched across the forest, through abandoned ruins, into the dead of night.
Jeffrie's body was battered with bruises forming, cuts burning, and exhaustion creeping in.
But he didn't stop.
Because if he stopped, even for a second... the doubt would settle in.
Ray and Trice weren't trying to kill him. They could've, multiple times, but they didn't.
And that terrified him.
The second night, Scarlett forced him to stop.
Jeffrie sat against a rock, wiping sweat from his brow, breathing raggedly. Scarlett knelt beside him, pressing a wet cloth to his temple.
"You're going to collapse," she muttered.
"I'm fine."
"You're lying," Raven cut in from his right.
Sophia crossed her arms. "We all see it, Jeff. You're wearing yourself down."
"I don't need a lecture," he gritted out, pushing Scarlett's hand away.
She caught his wrist, her grip firm. "Then what do you need?"
He didn't answer.
Because he didn't know anymore.
The final fight came at dawn.
Jeffrie was slower, heavier, bleeding from a deep cut along his shoulder.
But he kept moving.
Ray and Trice weren't unscathed either—Jeffrie had landed his fair share of blows, and the tension between them had shifted.
Ray dodged another punch, then grabbed Jeffrie's wrist, stopping his next attack. His grip was tight, but not threatening.
"This ain't what you think it is, Brudda," Ray murmured, voice low. "Sable lied to you."
"Shut up," Jeffrie hissed, trying to break free.
Trice stepped forward, eyes hard. "Look at me, cuzzo. We wouldn't be risking our lives for this if it wasn't real. You know us."
Jeffrie shook his head. "Not anymore."
But the uncertainty was in his voice now.
Ray exhaled, then reached into his vest.
Pulled out a data chip.
"This is the truth."
Jeffrie snatched it from him. "If this is another trick—"
"It's not."
Jeffrie plugged it into his comm-link.
And his world shattered.
Sable's voice echoed through the speaker.
"Jeffrie? He's strong, sure. But he's just a tool. Like all the others before him. When he dies, we'll replace him. Just like we did with the last ones."
The words hit harder than any punch.
Jeffrie staggered back, hands trembling, breath short. His heart was pounding against his ribs, chest aching.
"Jeff..." Lily whispered.
Sophia swallowed hard, looking at him with something close to heartbreak.
Scarlett reached out, but he stepped away. Too numb to accept her touch.
Jeffrie clenched his fists, knuckles white.
"Tell me this is fake."
No one answered.
Because it wasn't.
Jeffrie's vision blurred, his stomach twisting. Everything he'd fought for, everything he'd believed in—it was all a lie.
The battle was over.
But Jeffrie's world had collapsed. Sable's words repeated in his head.
"Just another tool. When he dies, we'll replace him."
Sable's voice wouldn't stop echoing.
Jeffrie wasn't breathing right. His chest was too tight, and his vision blurred.
He barely heard Ray and Trice speaking, barely felt his women standing behind him.
It was Lily who touched his arm first, hesitant but steady. "Jeff..."
He flinched away.
Lily's face fell, but she didn't step back.
Scarlett crossed her arms, frustration slipping through. "Jeffrie, you need to—"
"I need to what, Scarlett?" His voice was low, dangerous. His golden eyes burned as he looked at her, then at all of them. "Act like everything I believed in wasn't a damn lie?"
Silence.
No one could answer that.
Because there was no answer.
Jeffrie's fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms.
Ray sighed, voice calm. "Brudda, I get it."
Jeffrie's head snapped up. His glare was lethal. "No, you don't."
Trice exhaled sharply. "Cuzzo, we do. This happened to us, too."
Jeffrie's jaw locked. His heart was pounding. The rage inside him had nowhere to go.
Then Trice's comm link buzzed.
Ray checked his own—his entire body went rigid.
Jeffrie's mind snapped back into the present. "What?"
Trice exhaled sharply. "They moved 'em."
Jeffrie froze.
They moved who?
Then it hit him.
Sable didn't just betray him.
He betrayed his crew. His family.
A fresh wave of fury surged inside Jeffrie. Sable was still playing his sick games.
Not this time.
"Where?" Jeffrie's voice was deadly calm.
Ray studied him carefully. "So you're with us now?"
Jeffrie's golden eyes burned. "I ain't with you. But I sure as hell ain't with him anymore."
That was good enough.