The old mechanic's garage creaked as the group slipped inside. Oil stains darkened the concrete floors, and the scent of rubber and gasoline filled the air. This place — cold, dark, forgotten — would be their hideout for now.
Sophia locked the steel doors behind them, her chest still heaving from the sprint. Callum immediately scouted the windows, making sure no one had followed.
Glitch plopped himself onto a workbench, casually pulling apart a busted walkie-talkie like it was second nature.
Elias leaned against a support beam, silent, calculating.
His mind was racing — but this time, it wasn't panic. It was strategy.
The rewards he'd accumulated — reflexes, emotional resilience, now charm — they weren't just abilities anymore. They were tools.
And the world had just become his playing field.
---
"We need to move faster," Elias said.
Everyone turned toward him — for once, without argument.
Sophia crossed her arms, serious. "You have a plan?"
Elias nodded.
"Glitch needs 48 hours to crack Kane's communications," he said, motioning at the hacker. "While he does that, we use my... talents to build allies."
"Allies?" Callum asked skeptically.
"We can't take Kane down alone," Elias said. "We need numbers, and we need leverage."
Glitch nodded approvingly, vape smoke curling from his mouth.
"Recruitment drive, huh? Like Pokémon, but with desperate, angry people. I like it."
Sophia smirked. "You're oddly good at making things sound cool, Elias."
Elias shrugged. Maybe that was the subtle charm reward kicking in.
---
Their next move would be gathering:
A disgraced ex-cop with a vendetta against Kane.
An underground journalist blacklisted for uncovering human trafficking rings.
A tech prodigy, only seventeen, already on every watchlist.
A former street doctor, who once patched up gangsters and was owed too many favors to count.
Each of these people had something in common:
They hated corruption more than they loved safety.
Exactly what Elias needed.
---
That night, as the others slept in makeshift beds made of car seat covers and old tires, Elias sat alone by the dusty window.
His mind wandered — to his mother, who had struggled to pay bills while the city's elite lived in towers made of glass and lies.
To his best friend, Marco, gunned down in a robbery by someone desperate enough to kill for pocket change.
This wasn't just about survival anymore.
It was about justice.
Real, messy, painful justice.
And for the first time in a long time, Elias realized:
He wasn't running from the world anymore.
He was about to tear it apart and rebuild it.
---