Chapter 11: Through the Crack
The temple felt like a fragment of another world—ancient stone walls heavy with the weight of forgotten knowledge, every surface etched with faded inscriptions, as if time had tried and failed to erase them. James and Rebecca stood at the threshold, the structure towering above them like the remnants of a dream that refused to disappear.
"Are you sure this is it?" James asked, shifting uneasily. He scanned the area, half-expecting something unnatural to emerge from the shadows.
Rebecca nodded, checking the address one last time on her phone. "Yeah. This is where I talked to that monk. She knew things, James. About the cave, the powers. We might finally get some answers."
James let out a breath, trying to ease the tension building in his chest. "You know, most people would see a therapist or call the police if they were being chased by shadow creatures. Just saying."
Rebecca gave him a sideways glance. "Yeah, and most people don't shoot lightning from their hands. We're way past 'normal.'"
James snorted, unable to argue. "Fair point."
Rebecca softened. "Look, I know this is a lot. But we need to figure out what's going on before things get worse."
James offered her a small, grateful smile. He appreciated her sticking with him, even though the whole situation felt more like a surreal nightmare than reality.
They reached the entrance of the temple, where weathered wooden doors stood partially ajar, beckoning them inside. Rebecca turned to him before stepping in. "I'll go first. They aren't exactly open to strangers, so hang back for now."
James gave a mock salute. "Got it. Stay here, don't touch anything."
Rebecca smirked, shaking her head. "Try not to get kidnapped by any ancient spirits while I'm gone."
She disappeared inside, her footsteps fading into the quiet temple. James leaned against a nearby column, pulling out his phone to pass the time. A few notifications—memes from Marcus, an internet ad—and just as he debated texting Marcus, his phone buzzed with an incoming call.
He smirked. Speak of the devil. "Yo, Marcus."
"Where the hell are you, man?" Marcus's voice crackled through the speaker, a mixture of curiosity and concern.
"You won't believe me, but... I'm at an ancient temple looking for a monk who knows about my powers. Totally normal day," James said, the sarcasm dripping from his tone.
Marcus groaned. "Wait—what? What temple? What monk?"
"It's a long story," James sighed. "Rebecca's investigating, and she thinks this monk has answers. We're following up. You know—light research before the next shadow monster attack."
"Wait, Rebecca? As in Rebecca Rebecca? You told her about your powers?" Marcus's voice jumped an octave.
James winced, bracing himself. "Yeah. Had to. Shadow creatures attacked us, and I kinda… transformed in front of her."
There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end. Then: "Bro, what?! And she didn't freak out?"
James scratched the back of his neck. "Nope. And, uh… we kissed."
Another beat of silence.
"You WHAT?!"
James couldn't help but laugh. "I know. Crazy, right?"
"You're telling me," Marcus sputtered. "First, you get superpowers. Now, you're kissing Rebecca? What's next—saving the world?"
"Let's hope not," James muttered, though he couldn't shake the feeling that fate had other plans.
Before Marcus could respond, James felt it—the strange pull deep inside his chest, stronger than ever. It tugged at him, drawing his attention toward a shadowed corner of the temple courtyard.
"Uh, Marcus? Something's happening," James whispered, straightening up.
"What? What do you mean something's happening?" Marcus's voice sharpened.
James scanned the courtyard. Monks moved silently in the distance, but Rebecca was nowhere in sight. A knot of anxiety coiled in his stomach.
"She's gone," James muttered.
"Gone? What do you mean gone?"
"She was right here a second ago," James said, his pulse quickening. He followed the invisible pull, rounding a corner into a dimly lit hall.
At the far end stood a figure draped in simple monk robes, her serene gaze locking onto him the moment he approached. She wasn't Rebecca—but something about her felt familiar, like a memory buried deep in his subconscious.
"Champion," the monk greeted him softly, her voice gentle yet filled with ancient weight.
James froze. "What did you call me?"
"Champion," she repeated, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. "I have waited a long time for you to return."
James's heart pounded. "I… I've never been here before."
"Not in this life," the monk said, her dark eyes glimmering. "But the power you carry is ancient. It has chosen you, just as it did the champions before you."
A wave of dizziness washed over James as her words sank in. He wasn't just some unlucky guy caught in the middle of all this—he was chosen. Part of something much larger than himself.
The pull intensified, and his gaze drifted to a small crack in the stone wall behind the monk. It was just like the one he had fallen through before, back when all of this began.
"No way," James whispered, stepping closer. The crack seemed to hum with energy, a faint glow emanating from within.
"This is only the beginning," the monk said, her voice barely above a whisper.
James reached out, his hand trembling as he brushed his fingers against the cold stone. The moment he made contact, the hum grew louder, vibrating through his bones.
"James? What's happening?" Marcus's voice buzzed faintly through the phone.
"I think... I found the crack again," James whispered.
"Don't touch it! James, are you listening to me?"
But it was too late. The instant his hand connected with the crack, the world tilted violently.
The ground vanished beneath his feet, and everything around him dissolved into a blur of swirling light and sound. His body twisted and turned, weightless and unmoored, as he was dragged through the void once more.
Then—suddenly, violently—he hit solid ground with a gasp, the air knocked from his lungs.
James lay there for a moment, dazed, before forcing himself to sit up. He was back in the cave.
The statues loomed above him, silent and imposing, their shadows stretching across the chamber walls. At the center, the glowing orb pulsed faintly, brighter than before, as if it had been waiting for his return.
"James! Where are you?" Marcus's voice crackled from the phone, distant and distorted.
James stared at the orb, his heart pounding. "I… I don't know," he whispered, the weight of his destiny pressing down on him like never before.
But one thing was clear.
This time, there would be no easy way out.
---
Chapter: The Outside World
Rebecca paced across the temple courtyard, frustration building with every unanswered question. She had spoken to three monks already, each as unresponsive as the last—silent, stoic, and indifferent, like statues draped in robes. Not one had acknowledged her inquiries about the young woman she'd met before, the one who seemed to know far too much.
It felt like talking to ghosts. Polite, immovable ghosts.
With a sigh, Rebecca sank onto a weathered bench beneath a blooming cherry tree, its petals drifting lazily through the cool air. She rubbed her temples, exhaustion creeping in.
"I should've dragged James inside," she muttered under her breath, kicking herself for not insisting. Between the cryptic statues, the strange power swirling around him, and the growing list of mysteries tying everything together, she felt outmatched. It was all too much—too big, too strange. And James... he had no idea what he was stepping into.
The bench creaked softly as someone sat down beside her.
Rebecca tensed but glanced to her right, locking eyes with a middle-aged man. He wore neutral clothing—unassuming, ordinary. Too ordinary. His posture was relaxed, hands folded on his lap, but Rebecca's instincts screamed at her. Something about the way he carried himself—too at ease, too natural—felt like a performance.
Then he smiled. A friendly, easy grin. "Rebecca Martinez, right? The reporter from The Daily Bugle?"
She blinked, her guard instantly going up. "Yeah... who's asking?"
The man chuckled lightly, sensing her wariness. "Sorry. I've read your work. Big fan, actually. These days, the only Bugle reporter I trust is you."
Rebecca's brow arched, skepticism creeping into her voice. "You read the Bugle?"
He gave a small, disarming shrug. "Sometimes. When I need to find someone who still knows how to ask the right questions."
Rebecca studied him for a beat. He looked harmless—ordinary, even. But there was something too smooth about his demeanor.
"And you are?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
"Call me Chris," he replied easily. "I'm just someone who appreciates good journalism."
Rebecca gave him a small, polite smile, though her instincts remained sharp. "Right. And what brings you to a place like this, 'Chris'?"
The man—Chris—leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose like someone trying to gather his thoughts. "I'm... investigating some unusual cases." He glanced around the temple courtyard. "And I figured, who better to help with unusual things than the reporter who keeps writing about them?"
Rebecca crossed her arms. "So, what are you? Another conspiracy nut?"
Chris shook his head, his smile never fading. "Not exactly. I'm actually a cop. On a special task force. Thought maybe you could give us a new angle on some of these disappearances."
Rebecca narrowed her eyes, not buying it. "You don't exactly scream 'cop.'"
Chris gave a soft chuckle and reached into his jacket, producing a wallet. He opened it just enough to flash her a badge—official-looking, with an ID that listed him as "Detective Chris Brody."
Rebecca frowned. He wasn't a cop—she could feel it. But whoever this guy was, he had the kind of resources that came with real authority. And now he was sitting here, asking questions.
"Okay, Detective, I will bite," she said slowly, keeping her tone guarded. "What do you want from me?"
Chris leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel personal. "You've been following the missing persons cases. What's your take? Think it's random, or something more?"
Rebecca kept her face neutral, though her heart quickened. "Hard to say. There are some... strange connections. But nothing solid."
Chris nodded thoughtfully, like he expected that answer. "No weird symbols? No cracks appearing where they shouldn't be?"
Rebecca's breath hitched for half a second, but she recovered quickly. "I've heard rumors," she said smoothly. "Nothing I'd print, though."
Chris studied her with unsettling calm, as if trying to peel away her layers. "Ever heard of a man named Elias Kain?"
Rebecca blinked, the name catching her off guard. "Elias Kain?" she repeated, searching her memory but coming up empty. "No. Who is he?"
Chris smiled faintly. "He's trouble. The kind my boss doesn't like."
He let the statement hang in the air, giving it just enough weight to stir her curiosity without revealing too much. Then, with an easy movement, he reached into his pocket and handed her a card.
"Call me if you come across anything. Especially about Kain."
Rebecca took the card but didn't look at it right away. "Why would Kain matter to me?"
Chris's smile never wavered, but there was a flicker of something sharper in his eyes—something that told her this was no casual encounter. "You'd be surprised how connected things are, Ms. Martinez."
With that, he stood, adjusting the collar of his jacket. "It was nice meeting you. Keep asking the right questions."
Rebecca watched him walk away, his steps deliberate and unhurried, blending effortlessly into the flow of visitors and monks.
When he was out of sight, she finally glanced down at the card. It was plain, with only a phone number and two initials: C. Brody.
Something about the encounter left her unsettled, like she had just stepped into a game she didn't know she was playing.
And the mention of Elias Kain... She didn't know who he was, but she knew now she had to find out.
Slipping the card into her jacket pocket, Rebecca rose from the bench, brushing the petals off her clothes. There were still answers inside the temple—somewhere behind the blank stares of the monks and the cryptic silence they guarded so fiercely.
And James needed those answers.
This wasn't just about her investigation anymore. She had to figure this out—for him. Before someone else—someone like Chris, or worse—got to him first.
Rebecca squared her shoulders and stepped deeper into the temple grounds, ready to confront the truth. Whatever it was, she wouldn't stop until she found it.
Because James Carter wasn't going to face this alone. Not if she could help it.
---
Outside the Temple
Chris—Coulson—moved swiftly through the temple gates, the disguise discarded in his mind the moment he stepped back into the bustling streets of New York. The night air was crisp, and the city's distant hum provided a sense of comfort. But Coulson's thoughts were elsewhere, running through the implications of that brief conversation with Rebecca.
He ducked into an alley and pulled out his phone, dialing a familiar number. The line connected immediately.
"It's me," Coulson said quietly, glancing around to ensure no one was listening. "I think we've got a situation. Elias Kain might be connected to these disappearances."
A beat of silence passed, heavy with meaning.
"Kain?" Fury's voice was cold, clipped. "You sure about that?"
"Not entirely," Coulson admitted. "But I've got a feeling. He's been off the grid for too long, and these patterns... they feel deliberate. Too precise to be random."
Fury muttered something under his breath. "Kain's involvement would explain the anomalies. We've been hunting ghosts, and now one's about to haunt us again."
Coulson pressed his lips into a thin line. "Kain was one of ours, once. He knows too much. If he's back, it's not by accident."
"You think he's playing with magic again?" Fury asked.
"I don't know," Coulson said, his voice low. "I don't believe in magic. But Kain... he's gone places most of us can't follow. If he's involved, it's bad."
Fury exhaled sharply. "Keep digging. If it is him, we need answers. Fast."
"Understood." Coulson ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
He lingered for a moment in the alley, staring out into the city beyond. Magic, ancient artifacts, shadow creatures—Coulson didn't believe in any of it. Not yet, at least. But Elias Kain had always been an enigma. Too smart. Too ambitious. Too dangerous. And if the man was involved in these disappearances, the city—and maybe the world—was in for a reckoning.
Coulson adjusted his collar, steeling himself. Whatever was coming, SHIELD had to be ready. And so did he.
With that, he stepped out of the shadows and disappeared into the night, the weight of unfinished business pressing down on him.
----
Hello, Dear Readers!
Author here.
I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far. So, SHIELD finally enters the fray. There are a lot of things going in the city, and the first arc is about to reach its climax.
I would like it if you guys comment more. I will finish the first arc, and then the MCU storyline will take place.
Peace.
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