Nova dashed past buildings and darted through narrow alleyways, eyes scanning every corner for any sign of Cyrus.
He had seen him earlier—stumbling groggily with his hands still tied. There was no way he could've gotten far.
Turning a sharp corner, Nova's gaze swept frantically across the area. Still nothing.
"Shit, where is he!?" he growled under his breath, frustration bubbling in his chest.
Just as his hope began to slip, a sharp honk pierced the air from the road up ahead. Nova's head snapped toward the sound.
There, he saw Cyrus—frozen in the middle of the street, nearly clipped by a passing car.
Nova's eyes locked onto him, and Cyrus, turning just at that moment. Their eyes met.
Cyrus flinched, the color draining from his face. He saw it—clear as day. Nova's sharp murderous eyes staring straight at him.
Panic took hold of him as he bolted.
And Nova chased with fire in his stride, like a predator refusing to lose its prey.
…..
Thud! Thud! Thud!
A man's feet pounded against the wet pavement, his breath ragged as he sprinted through the dimly lit alleyways of the city.
The smell of damp concrete and cigarette smoke lingered in the air, sharp noises and hurried footsteps followed behind him.
"Oi! Stop running Cyrus!"
The voice was aggressive and harsh, a few meters away from him but still lingers a whisper in his ears.
He risked a glance over his shoulder. A young man holding a metal pipe, was chasing after him relentlessly.
"Damn it!" he cursed, while struggling to untie the ropes around his hands.
A sudden rush of adrenaline burst through his veins as he lunged forward, stepping on an abandoned car to jump over a fence.
The metal rattled under his weight. As he landed, the crashing of cans was heard from behind, then he heard another shout.
"I won't let you slip!"
Cyrus cursed under his breath and broke into a sprint down another alley, his lungs burning with each breath and sweat clinging to his back.
He didn't know these streets—the shortcuts, the dead ends. This was unfamiliar ground.
All he could hope for was that his pursuer didn't know them either… maybe then, he could lose them here.
Or so he thought.
CLANG! CLANG! BANG!
The air cracked as a metal pipe flew past him, it graced beside him as it shot through the wall of a building.
Fortunately, his legs moved before his mind could catch up as he sprinted much faster than before.
As time ticked by, Cyrus started to slow down.
He slipped into a dark corner, his chest heaved as he pressed himself against a wall forcing himself to listen to the surroundings.
Silence.
As the silence was getting to him, he heard footsteps rang out.
"Cyrus… don't make this harder that it needs to be." The young man said, his voice followed by a muffled murmur that Cyrus couldn't quite make out.
But he didn't care.
He moved as low as possible, using the shadows of the building as cover.
He just had to stay quiet—keep moving forward.
He turned to another corner when…
A hand came out of nowhere and grabbed his shoulder.
Cyrus was alarmed—but he wasn't fast enough.
A brutal kick slammed in his stomach.
"Guh—!"
A pained grunt tore from his throat as he crumpled to the ground. He tried to roll away, desperate to escape—but a heavy foot came down on his arm, pinning him in place.
"Argh! Stop!" he cried out, panic laced in every word. His face twisted in pain, wide-eyes with fear and confusion.
But the young man wasn't satisfied. He pressed his foot down harder and muttered.
"Hey… did you get déjà vu earlier?" A cold smirk tugged at his lips. "I did everything you guys did when you were chasing me."
"Aaaaaagh! Please… please, I'm sorry…" Cyrus wailed, his voice breaking beneath the pain.
"Alright, you bastard… making me run like this again is a shitty move." Nova muttered while exhaling heavily.
He lifted his foot and crouched down, leaning in close, eyes locked on Cyrus to make sure he didn't try anything stupid.
A few seconds passed.
Cyrus finally began to settle, his breath steadying as the adrenaline drained from his body. He let his head fall back against the cold ground, eyes closing with a weary sigh.
"How?"
"How what?" Nova asked with a grin.
Hearing Nova's playful tone, Cyrus shot his eyes open with a glare—but shut them again, trying to bury his frustration.
"Alive… how are you alive?" he asked, surprisingly calm. Even Nova was taken aback by the composure in his voice after everything they'd just been through.
"I don't know," Nova replied with a shrug. "Still breathing, though."
"Heh… that you are…" Cyrus muttered with a disappointed chuckle. After a moment of silence, he added, "I should've never taken that mission."
"Too late to regret now, dipshit," Nova said with a condescending laugh. "Now, tell me where the others are. Maybe I'll show you some mercy."
"Mercy?" Cyrus scoffed in disbelief.
"Yeah," Nova grinned darkly. "I'll just shoot you once, let you bleed out nice and slow. Very merciful, don't you think?"
"Hahaha… You don't have to threaten me, Nova," Cyrus said with a hollow chuckle. "I don't care anymore. I was supposed to die anyway."
"Then tell me—where are your companions from that night?!" Nova ordered, his voice contained his fury.
But all he got was silence.
Cyrus just sat there looking lifeless. With no hope left, there was no point in fighting.
Nova clenched his jaw, he realized that he wasn't getting anything out of him.
"Fuck!" Nova propped up and kicked a nearby trash can, sending it crashing against the wall. Then he grabbed it and hurled it at Cyrus.
"Why do nobodies accept death so damn easily?!"
Nova approached him and slammed his foot into Cyrus's side.
"Talk!"
Another kick.
"Where the hell are they?!"
Another.
"Don't make me keep doing this, you piece of shit!"
But Cyrus didn't scream, or plead like he did earlier. He just curled up tighter, his breathing turning silent by the second.
Seeing that this method wasn't working, Nova finally calmed down.
Cyrus was in bad shape. He's barely conscious, and blood was gushing out of his mouth and nose. A couple of ribs had to be broken, judging by the way he wheezed with each breath. The guy was barely hanging on.
Nova crouched down again, trying one last time. "Where are they?"
Cyrus responded with nothing but a weak, bloodied spit hitting the ground.
Nova clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Fuck this."
He stood up, eyes scanning the alley before snatching a piece of rusty metal lying nearby. The edge was jagged and sharp enough—perfect for what he had in mind. He pressed the tip against Cyrus's neck.
"Last chance, baldy. Say it now… or you'll die from tetanus."
Still nothing.
Cyrus had already accepted it. That this was the end.
"Shit! Shit, shit!" Nova shouted, his voice was cracking under pressure. His hands trembled holding the metal piece, the tension surging through his body like static.
The metal's point pressed harder into Cyrus skin. Just a little push and it would be over.
But then he stopped. It hit him like a slap to the face. He smacked his forehead a few times, cursing under his breath.
"How the hell did I forget?" he muttered. He had the ability to get information so easily—yet here he was, wasting time.
"I think this one's on you, my guy," Nova said, glancing at the barely conscious Cyrus.
Nova stared intently at Cyrus's half-lidded eyes, waiting for something to happen—then it began. That strange, sensation in his mind.
Within seconds, words started forming in his thoughts. Fragmented at first, but rapidly sharpening into full sentences—memories, moments, experiences. It was like flipping through the pages of Cyrus's life.
What he ate in a random Tuesday. Where he walked on a rainy afternoon. Every mundane detail, every hidden truth, laid bare before him.
He focused harder, filtering through the mess. He wasn't looking for idle memories, he needed to find a specific moment—a specific night.
He combed through the clutter like a reader flipping to a bookmarked page.
Nova had been skeptical before. His ability used to give him only scattered parts—unorganized scraps of someone's past. But now, for the first time, it was different somehow.
His intent was guiding the ability like a spotlight cutting through fog.
Then, finally, he read what he was looking for.
After they left Nova that night in the abandoned factory, they split up, one by one. The order had been to capture him alive—but accidents happen.
It wasn't unusual for plans to go sideways, especially when you rely on lowlife thugs and bottom-feeder criminals to carry out delicate orders.
They thought they were safe when they were summoned to a meeting with the higher-ups. At worst, they expected a slap on the wrist—a warning, maybe a punishment to remind them who's in charge.
But it turned out to be the worst mistake of their lives.
Once dismissed and sent back, the nightmare began. They started dropping like flies—one after another.
At first, it looked like coincidences. A hit-and-run. A stray bullet in a back alley. Some simply vanished without a trace.
But it wasn't bad luck.
They were being erased—disposable pawns from different gangs. Nobodies. People whose deaths wouldn't raise questions. No evidence. No family to notice. No one who'd care enough to ask.
Cyrus found out the truth when he narrowly escaped his own executioner. A man had broken into his apartment in the middle of the night, but Cyrus managed to slip away through a secret escape route he had built for himself.
Since then, he'd gone into hiding—disappearing into the depths of a casino tied to the Viper Gang. He still had a few connections left, and that was enough to buy him a spot in one of their hidden establishments.
Nova closed his eyes, feeling the toll of using his ability.
This was the first time he had read like this—no more fragmented flashes or scattered memories, but chosen scenes pulled from a complete story.
Controlling it with this much intent was harder than he'd expected. His mind felt heavy, like it had been wrung out.
He took a slow breath, trying to steady himself. But he could feel a headache was already creeping in.
After a few minutes, Nova reeled in his thoughts and finally let himself relax.
But the moment he opened his eyes, his body tensed again—Cyrus was gone.
"What the!?" Nova stood quickly, spinning around to look for him, but before he could take another step.
Click.
Something cold pressed against the back of his head.
"Don't move," a deep voice growled behind him.
Nova's eyes narrowed. He didn't need to turn to know it was a gun.
Still, he kept his voice calm. "What do you want?"
"We want you," the man answered.
And yet, something about how he said it sent a chill through Nova's spine.
He held back a grimace. They don't want me that way... right?
He was about to say something, but—
THWACK!
The butt of the gun slammed into his head, and everything went black.
The man in the suit caught Nova's limp body before it hit the ground. He calmly pressed a finger to the communicator in his ear. "Target secured."
"Copy that. Moving the car in now."