Chapter Ten: Sparks, Shifts, and Surveillance
Kael wasn't sure what he expected when Nima said she had "help." But it definitely wasn't the guy lounging in her office chair with his boots on the desk, spinning a small drone between his fingers.
"You're Ray Kim?" Kael said slowly.
Ray grinned. "In the flesh. The system's least-liked tech consultant, from the Tech Operations and Support Unit, with a flawless record and a terrible coffee habit."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "You followed Nima?"
"She's not exactly subtle," Ray replied, not looking the least bit apologetic. "And I have a natural talent for uncovering buried secrets."
Nima gave Kael a look that said 'just go with it'. "He found out about our midnight work. Instead of reporting it, he offered to help."
"Help," Kael repeated. "That's one word for it."
Ray stood and clapped his hands. "Hey, relax, Light Mask. I'm on your side. I don't trust HQ either. Something smells, and I don't mean the city's lower districts."
Kael crossed his arms. "What do you want?"
"To dig," Ray said, grinning. "And maybe mess with some highly encrypted firewalls along the way. You keep flying around making headlines. I'll keep the data buried where it belongs."
Nima added, "He's also the only one who can bypass the Hero System's archive restrictions without tripping alarms."
Kael stared at Ray for a long moment, then sighed. "Fine. But if you compromise our cover—"
"I won't," Ray said, already pulling out a custom data chip. "I like being alive."
********
Later, inside the headquarters' infirmary, Lira's voice echoed like a warning siren.
"You've gone too far," she told Kael later that day. "You're exhausted, half the city thinks you're losing it, and if you just collapse mid-fight like that, we're the ones who'll pay for it." she told Kael, her eyes fixed on the IV drip attached to his arm, it's clear liquid flowing into his veins.
One hour ago—
The sky had been a blur of neon signs and smoke trails when Kael felt it: the faltering tug of his telekinesis slipping. His flight dipped once—twice—before his blurry vision tunneled and the world tilted sideways.
He barely saw the rooftop beneath him before crashing into it, hard.
Someone screamed.
"Is that—? It's Kael!" a voice cried out.
Civilians rushed over. A few tried to shake him awake while others pulled out their phones—not to call but to film.
Among them, a high school girl— clutching a hero badge to her chest—stumbled forward, her hands trembling. She fumbled with her phone, then hit the emergency alert app linked to the Hero Assistance Agency.
"Kael's down!" she cried into it. "He fell from the sky—he's not moving!"
Back at the HAA base, Nima had been halfway through analyzing footage of the latest fake Wraith sighting when the emergency alert came in. Her screen lit up with Kael's ID tag—critical vitals.
Her heart dropped. "Get that call through, now," she told the dispatch tech, eyes locked on the flashing alert.
"Kael's down," came the panicked voice of a teenage girl through the feed. "He just—he fell. He's not waking up."
As the live feed from the civilians synced to the huge screen in the support base, Nima caught sight of phones being raised and shoved into Kael's face while he lay unconscious.
"Shut that down," she shouted. "Activate emergency media lockdown for the area. Blur his face—now."
The officers obeyed her call, jamming unauthorized livestreams and dispatching a drone to issue a crowd control warning. Nima leaned in closer to the mic, "And someone get those damn cameras out of his face."
Within minutes, a hover-ambulance landed. The responders moved fast, lifting Kael onto a stretcher, voices tense but efficient. The faint glow of belief flickered in the crowd's faces—still there, but dimmer than usual. Fewer cheers. More concern.
By the time he was transferred to the HQ's infirmary, Nima was already there, waiting outside the room as the medics stabilized him. Relief washed over her when she saw him breathing, but it was thin, tired, and too shallow.
When Lira arrived, she barely glanced at Nima before sweeping into the room.
"You've gone too far," Lira told Kael later that day, her voice sharp as a blade.
Nima lingered at the doorway for a moment, unsure if she should interrupt. But Lira didn't even look her way.
"You're exhausted," she continued, eyes fixed on the IV drip attached to Kael's arm, its clear liquid flowing into his veins. "Half the city thinks you're losing it, and if you just collapse mid-fight like that, we're the ones who'll pay for it."
Nima stepped back quietly. "I'll give you two a moment," she said softly, and slipped out, closing the door behind her.
Within minutes, a hover-ambulance landed. The responders moved fast, lifting Kael onto a stretcher, voices tense but efficient.
By the time he was transferred to the HQ's infirmary, the adrenaline had worn off. All that remained was the sharp sting of weakness and the cold drip feeding into his arm.
"You're the face of the heroes right now," she continued. "But you're burning the candle from both ends. I'm requesting that another pro be deployed to handle the fake Wraith cases."
Kael's jaw tightened. "I can still handle—"
"No," she interrupted. "You shouldn't have to. This isn't about pride, Kael. You're needed elsewhere." Kael stood still, his face lowered, jaw clenched as she paced the length of the room, tension rippling with every step.
Lira lowered her voice and whispered," Tracking the real Wraith, finding out what the system buried—that's your mission now."
Kael hesitated, then slowly nodded. "Who are they sending?"
"Pro hero Darya. Storm user, level A ranking. She's reliable. She'll coordinate with Han. It's not official now but by tomorrow it will be. You will be summoned too."
Kael exhaled. "Good. Han needs someone experienced to guide him."
Lira softened slightly. "You did good, Kael. You've held the city together longer than anyone had a right to expect. But now it's time to let someone else carry the weight—while you work smarter."
Kael looked down. He knew Lira was right—but it still felt like losing ground.
Kael nodded slowly. "Yeah."
But in the back of his mind, the truth remained: he had no intention of walking away from Wraith.
**********
That night, Kael met Nima and Ray on the roof of a deserted tech facility.
The city stretched beneath them like a wounded beast—flickering lights, quiet alarms, distant news drones humming through the haze.
Ray handed Kael a small chip with a sly smile. "Welcome to the club."
Kael blinked, taking it. "What is this?"
"Access key," Ray said, with a little bow. "Custom-designed. It'll let us into restricted segments of the Hero Archives' system—stuff they don't want even internal agents poking into."
Kael studied the chip. "And why are you helping?"
Ray's smirk faded just a little. "Because I've seen the inside of the system. The mess isn't from the outside—it's baked into the code, the decisions, the people in charge."
Nima folded her arms, watching Kael closely. "Are you sure you're okay? You collapsed in the middle of a flight—gave half the city a panic attack."
Kael exhaled slowly. "Yeah... I'm still a bit off-balance, but the IV helped. Lira practically bit my head off."
"You needed that rest," Nima said, her voice softer now. "You push too hard."
He gave her a small nod of gratitude before turning back to Ray. "You were saying?"
Nima nodded. "We think there's information buried in the archive logs HQ doesn't want to be found out. Something crucial. Who knows we might end up finding some dark history ."
"Then let's crack it before the Fear Index starts eating people whole," Kael said.
They stood for a moment in the cold wind—an exhausted hero, a sharp-eyed officer, and a quietly rebellious techie. Three people the system hadn't broken yet.
Ray nudged Kael. "You look like you're one patrol away from face planting."
Kael gave a tired laugh. "Yeah, I probably am. HQ's got eyes on me like I'm a liability now. And Lira—my manager—she's been hovering nonstop."
Nima tilted her head. "Then don't go back tonight."
Kael looked at her, surprised. "You serious?"
"Dead serious. You need rest, not a lecture," she said casually. "You've done more than enough. Just stay off the grid for a night. Rest. If you want you can stay at my place. It's near. I've got extra futons. And ramen."
Ray, who had been sipping from his water bottle, choked.
Kael raised a brow. "You okay?"
Ray lowered the bottle slowly. "Ramen?"
"Yes, Ray. Noodles. Broth. Maybe an egg," Nima said dryly.
Ray squinted. "You sure it's... you know... the food kind of ramen?"
Kael looked at him, confused. "Is there another kind?"
Nima rolled her eyes but smirked. "You've been watching too many K-dramas."
Ray held up both hands. "I just—look, I'm coming too. Just to make sure no data gets corrupted while I'm not there."
Kael stared, "You want to eat ramen with us? You should have said something if you were hungry."
"Absolutely," Ray said quickly. "For entirely professional, surveillance-support reasons. The future of Skyline depends on it."
Nima sighed, amused. "Fine. But you're doing the dishes."
Ray grinned. "Deal."
Kael shook his head, a rare, genuine laugh escaping his lips.
For now, they were allies.
And tomorrow, they'd hunt the truth.
***********
The city slept restlessly.
In the shadows of Sector 11's ruins, Wraith stood still atop a fractured support beam, high above the broken streets.
Below, Trust Network billboards flickered between propaganda slogans and
outage warnings, their glow pulsing like a dying heartbeat.
One screen buzzed, struggling to stay lit with slogans written on them:
"TRUST IN HEROES IS OUR FUTURE."
"A TRUE HERO BENDS ONLY TO THE WILL OF THE PEOPLE "
Wraith watched it for a long time, unmoving.
Then—
Flash.
A memory, sharp and brutal, tore through the dark.
-------
Please—please—I can't—"
Someone shouted. His voice was broken and trembling. His hands kept sparking with too much energy.
Blood on the walls. Fear in his eyes.
"Make it stop."
"Aarrghhh!!!!"
"This is your fault!"
Uniformed officers shouting over screaming civilians.
"You let it happen!"
His name twisted into a curse. His hands were stained red.
A roar—his own—shattering the air as everything exploded into light and lightning and silence.
-------
Wraith's body stiffened, muscles tensing like a coiled spring. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breathing quickened, becoming shallow and ragged. His hands clenched into fists, and his jaw tightened. His eyes flickered, and his face inside the mask contorted In a mixture of anguish and horror.
The screen in front of him buzzed louder.
With one sharp motion, he raised his hand. Purple lightning lanced out—brief, precise. The billboard died in silence.
He turned.
And vanished into the dark.