The city of Nocturnia never slept — it barely blinked. Under the bruised sky stained with smoke and oil, the air was thick with desperation. Flames licked the edges of the crumbling hover-factory, thick black smoke billowing like a specter's breath. The distant cries of trapped workers clawed at the walls, begging for salvation.
From the chaos leapt a figure, his gait uneven but purposeful. E's eyes burned with determination, hands trembling slightly beneath the weight of his own burden. The stabilizer Cam had pressed onto his arm glowed faintly, a fragile barrier holding the storm within him at bay.
He ran toward the smoke, ignoring the ache that clawed at his lungs. As he burst into the inferno's heart, screams tore at his ears. Children. Mothers. Fathers. Strangers bound together by nothing but survival.
He pushed through the heat, dragging bodies to safety, muscles straining, blood pumping a dangerous rhythm. A shard of falling metal grazed his arm — a fresh burn. His body screamed in protest, the poison inside fighting for release. Yet he kept moving.
The last person pulled clear was a small girl, wide-eyed and trembling. She clutched his arm, whispering, "Thank you…"
E smiled weakly, but the words stuck in his throat. When the flames were finally quelled and paramedics took over, the crowd gathered — not in gratitude, but with wary eyes and hushed murmurs.
"Look at him. The drunk vigilante."
"He's just a ticking time bomb."
"He saved lives… but at what cost?"
E felt the weight of their judgment as heavily as the burns on his skin. The stabilizer kept him alive, but it couldn't protect him from their scorn.
Back in the shadows, Cam watched the newsfeed flicker across his screens, jaw clenched. "They don't deserve him," he muttered.
Nocturnia was a city desperate for heroes — yet quick to cast them down.