Capítulo 18: Chapter 18 : He’s losing it

Stone sat hunched over in a booth at a dingy diner called Gus's Griddle, a spot notorious for its greasy hashbrowns and questionable hygiene. No one ever truly goes there for the food, it is mostly used as a hotspot for quick deals and discussions between criminals.

The overhead fan groaned as it spun, barely cutting through the heat of the night. He was nursing his third cup of coffee, not because he needed the caffeine, but because his trembling hands needed something to do. His phone sat on the sticky table, its screen dark, yet its contents weighing on his mind like a lead weight.

Stone tapped the side of his phone nervously before finally unlocking it. He hit play.

The screen lit up with the grainy footage of Voltstrike reducing Bastion to ashes. Stone flinched when the crackling lightning filled the audio, his hand jerking enough to slosh some coffee onto his pants.

"Dammit!" he hissed, grabbing a napkin. The diner waitress raised an eyebrow at him from behind the counter but said nothing.

He rewound the video, his eyes glued to the screen. It didn't matter how many times he watched it, Michael, the oh so righteous golden hero Voltstrike, rumoured to be the next member of the Vanguard had killed Bastion in cold blood. There was no hesitation, no regret, just a cold, calculated execution.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" Stone muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples.

A part of him wanted to delete the video, bury it deep where no one could ever find it. But another part, the part that feared Lumian more than anything else knew he couldn't. He felt like Lumian had an uncanny way of knowing everything. Deleting it might as well be another way of saying he wants to end up like Bastion.

Stone sighed heavily, throwing a glance at the clock. He had to meet Boulder.

The warehouse by the docks was one of those places you only saw in crime dramas dark, damp, and conveniently abandoned. The smell of saltwater mixed with rust filled the air, and every footstep echoed ominously. Stone hated it. He always felt like he was walking into a trap, even when he wasn't.

"Stone, you're late," Boulder grunted, his massive frame leaning against a crate. He was munching on a candy bar, the wrapper crinkling in his hand.

"Yeah, well, you try carrying this kind of guilt around and see how punctual you are," Stone shot back, though his voice lacked its usual bite.

Boulder raised an eyebrow. "What guilt? Did you finally eat the last donut at HQ and lie about it?"

Stone sighed, pulling out his phone. "Just… watch this."

Boulder's expression shifted from amused to curious as the video played. By the time it ended, his usually unshakable composure had turned grim.

"That's… not good," Boulder said slowly, his deep voice reverberating in the cavernous space.

"No kidding," Stone snapped. "What the hell am I supposed to do with this? Lumian's the one who told me to keep an eye on Michael. He said—"

"Lumian always says things," Boulder interrupted, holding up a hand. "The guy plays chess when the rest of us are playing checkers. Question is, why does he want you to keep tabs on Michael?"

Stone threw his arms up. "You think I know? Lumian's got his own creepy little agenda. I'm just the unlucky guy stuck in the middle!"

Boulder crossed his arms, his massive biceps straining against his shirt. "Here's what I think. You keep that video, but you don't let it see the light of day unless Lumian tells you to. And stay out of Michael's way. That guy's unraveling faster than a cheap sweater."

Stone blinked. "Did you just use a fucking knitting metaphor, right now?"

Boulder shrugged. "What? My mom knits. Don't judge."

"You have a mom?" Stone asked, genuinely surprised

Boulder shrugged, "Doesn't everyone? I mean, people don't just fall out of the sky,"

Despite the tension, Stone couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. "That's not what I meant... I'll keep the damn video. But if Michael fries me next, I'm haunting you."

"Noted," Boulder said, deadpan.

As Stone turned to leave, a cold shiver ran down his spine. He glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see Voltstrike or Lumian lurking in the shadows. Instead, there was only the faint lapping of waves and the creak of the old warehouse.

"Why do I feel like I'm living in a horror movie?" Stone muttered to himself as he walked away.

High above the city, Michael perched on the edge of a skyscraper, his Voltstrike suit glowed faintly in the darkness. Lightning flickered in the distant clouds, casting jagged shadows across his face. He clenched his fists, the faint hum of electricity danced across his knuckles.

The wind howled around him, but it wasn't enough to drown out the voice in his head. Lumian's voice.

"They deserve to die. You're not a killer, Michael. You're a purifier."

Michael shook his head, trying to push the thought away. But the memory of Bastion's ashes refused to leave him.

His comm device buzzed, pulling him out of his thoughts. A voice crackled through the line.

Michael was so trusted by the police department that they had a separate communication line that they used to report criminals who were out of their depth to him.

"We've got a lead on Shroud. Abandoned industrial complex on the east side. You want in?"

Michael didn't hesitate. "On my way."

The industrial complex was a maze of rusted beams and crumbling walls. Shadows stretched long under the flickering floodlights, creating an almost oppressive atmosphere.

Michael moved silently, his enhanced senses scanned the area. Shroud's voice echoed faintly in the distance, barking orders to his subordinates.

As Michael approached, the villain came into view a wiry man with a face like a rat and shadows coiling around his hands like living things.

"Well, well," Shroud sneered, spotting Michael. "If it isn't the golden boy himself. Come to play executioner again?"

Michael didn't respond. He surged forward, lightning crackling around him.

The fight was brutal. Shroud's shadow constructs lashed out like whips, forcing Michael to dodge and counter with blinding bolts of electricity.

"Getting sloppy, hero!" Shroud taunted, ducking under a lightning strike. "What happened to all that precision?"

Michael didn't answer. His attacks grew fiercer, the air around him heating with the intensity of his power. Shroud's smirk faltered as he realized Michael wasn't holding back.

The battle raged through the complex, beams snapped and walls crumbled under the sheer force of their clash. At one point, Shroud managed to entangle Michael in a web of shadows, pinning him against a wall.

"You're done," Shroud growled, pulling out a knife.

But Michael's eyes burned with an unholy light. With a roar, he unleashed a surge of lightning that obliterated the shadows and sent Shroud flying.

Coughing and bloodied, Shroud tried to crawl away, but Michael was on him in an instant.

"Wait, wait!" Shroud pleaded, holding up his hands. "You don't have to do this! I'll… I'll disappear! You'll never see me again!"

Michael stared at him, his face unreadable.

"No," he said coldly. "You won't hurt anyone else."

With a crackling burst of energy, Michael delivered the final blow. Shroud's screams were brief, ending in silence as his body turned to ash.

Hidden in the shadows, Stone lowered his camera, his hands trembling.

"He didn't even hesitate…" he whispered to himself.

As Michael disappeared into the night, Stone slipped away, clutching his camera like a lifeline.

"He's fucking lost it, damn it! I don't think I can do this anymore, at this rate I'd die of a heart attack before Michael or Lumian get to me. This should be enough for Lumian…I hope"

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