The air inside the Hummer was heavy, thick with the smell of sweat and old gunpowder. Dante was shaking with a quiet, terrifying rage. He kept punching the dashboard, the sound of his fist hitting plastic echoing in the dark car.
"Shit!" Dante choked out, his voice cracking. "That was it. Our biggest stock. Everything we spent years building... just gone in a second. Who told them, Carlos? Who sold us out? I swear, when I find that rat, I'm going to make them wish they were never born."
Carlos didn't look at him. His eyes were red from exhaustion as he stared at the road. "Shouting won't bring the guns back, Dante. It's over. We just need to figure out how to breathe again."
Dante let out a long, shaky breath and leaned his head against the cold window. "Yeah... you're right. As always."
They hit a massive traffic jam near the city center. Blue and red police lights flashed everywhere, reflecting off the glass. On a huge digital billboard above the highway, the news was screaming: 15 DEAD IN THE INCIDENT. The reporter was telling people to lock their doors and stay away.
"If we stay on this road, we're dead," Carlos whispered. He yanked the steering wheel, forcing the massive Hummer into a tiny, dirt-filled side street.
"Carlos, you're going to get us stuck! This car is too big for these alleys!" Dante yelled, his nerves on edge.
"I'd rather be stuck in an alley than in a jail cell, Dante. If the cops see the crates in the back, it's game over for all of us."
Eventually, the tall buildings began to disappear. The grey concrete turned into open green fields, glowing softly under the moonlight. It was so quiet it felt like the world had ended. Ren was lying in the back, his eyes half-open. He was awake, but he stayed silent, watching them.
Dante looked out at the hills, his expression changing from anger to something much more painful—longing.
"You know," Dante said, his voice barely a whisper, "I wish we had never started this. I wish we were just normal guys." He pointed at a small, dark farmhouse in the distance. "Look at that. Imagine just living there. No guns. No 'Boss.' No running for our lives. Just a small house, a garden, and enough peace to actually sleep at night. I just want to go somewhere where nobody knows my name."
Carlos looked at his friend, and for a second, a tear glistened in his eye before he wiped it away. "One day, Dante. We'll finish this last job, and we'll find that peace. I promise."
Ren listened, his heart aching. Who are these men? he wondered. They talk like monsters, but they dream like broken children.
Three hours later, they pulled into a deserted parking lot. It was nearly midnight. Carlos climbed into the back and gently lifted Ren. Ren's body felt like lead; he couldn't even lift his arms. Carlos carried him like a brother, careful not to hurt his bruises.
They walked to an old manhole cover in the corner of the lot. Carlos slid it back, and they climbed down into the cool, damp underground. After a long walk through a concrete tunnel, they reached a heavy steel door. Carlos scanned his ID, and the door hissed open.
"Welcome back, you idiots," a voice echoed.
A man in a wheelchair rolled forward. His face was full of light until he saw them. He stopped dead. "What happened? You look like you went through a meat grinder. Why are you bleeding? And... who is the kid?"
Dante leaned his back against the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor, exhausted. "Them again. They found the decoy. It's all gone."
The man in the wheelchair closed his eyes and sighed. "Again? It's like they have a tracker on your souls."
Ren managed to let out a tiny, weak sound. "Hello..."
The man in the wheelchair looked down at Ren, his eyes softening. "Wait... tell me the truth. Who is this boy, and why does he look so lost?"
Carlos laid Ren down on a soft, old sofa. "Give us a minute, man. My head is spinning. Get us some food and water first. Then... then we'll tell you everything".
A little while later, the man in the wheelchair came back with some warm food. He served it on a small wooden table in the center of the room. By now, Ren was feeling a bit better. The heavy fog in his head was clearing, and he was finally able to sit up on the old sofa. Dante and Carlos sat across from him, their faces tired but serious.
Ren took a small breath and looked Dante straight in the eyes. "Okay, enough. Tell me what is going on. What are these strange powers? How do you have them too? And... who are you people, really?"
Dante put down his glass of water and leaned forward. The room went quiet.
"Alright, Ren. I'll tell you everything," Dante began, his voice low. "These powers... they weren't a gift. They were an accident. About twenty years ago, a dangerous gang started doing experiments on children. For five years, they messed with kids' brains, using chips and strange chemicals to see if they could create something 'new.' At first, they just sold these kids like toys for a very high price."
Dante's jaw tightened as if he was remembering something painful. "But fifteen years ago, the law caught up. The leaders of that gang were caught and executed. But before they died, they built an underground bunker—a secret city. Some of the kids who survived the experiments, like us, were hidden there."
He looked at Ren with a sad smile. "How old are you, Ren?"
"I'm... I'm fifteen," Ren whispered.
"Then you are one of the last ones," Dante said. "The people in that underground city are completely cut off from the world. They live, eat, and work there just like the old days. They don't even know about their own powers because the people in charge don't want them to ever try to escape. They want to keep them like birds in a cage."
Ren felt a chill run down his spine. His whole life felt like a lie.
"And us?" Dante continued, gesturing to the room. "I'm Dante. This is Carlos. And our friend here in the wheelchair... his legs were broken two years ago by the same gang that attacked us today. That gang is getting stronger every day. It's becoming almost impossible to stop them. That's why we need people like you—people who can actually use their power to fight back."
Dante leaned back. "As for us, we usually run shops as a cover. The shop where you met me? Someone else will take over now. We have to move and hide in this city because the war is shifting here."
Dante was about to say something more when the heavy steel door was suddenly kicked open.
A man burst into the room, gasping for air. His clothes were torn, and his face was covered in sweat and dirt. He looked like he had been running for his life. He couldn't even speak; he just stood there, shaking, his eyes wide with pure terror. It looked like death was right behind him.
[TO BE CONTINUED...]