Chapter 17
2075words
She's trying to make sense of the data. The scanners in Prosperity Plaza's sublevel vault. A breach. Someone had walked straight through without a single flag. Impossible. The Vera Core Scanners were designed to detect powered signatures instantly, biological anomalies, psionic spikes, and energy flares. Nothing passed them. Nothing. And that's got her curious about who even has that type of power to just get past the Vera Core Scanners.
Unless... whoever it was had nothing to be found.
It might've been a glitch. But Eirs didn't believe in glitches this clean.
She tapped a secure line on the keyboard. It rang once.
"Blinding Sun,"
His voice broke through, shredded by static and feedback, every word fractured.
"-not... now, Eris. I'm... in the... Underbelly."
"Yeah, I can tell. The signal sounds like shit," she shot back, frowning at the lines of code. "Listen. I got something. Someone went through the LeCrane vault. Those things are built to sniff out gods and monsters, and this one... nothing. Walked through clean. It might be a glitch, but..." she dragged smoke from a Nova-Cig, exhaled. "Just like your gut, my gut is saying it's not.
Static buzzed. He reply came with background noise, distant shouts, a hiss of steam. "-not... now"
Eris sighed, leaning back against the couch. "Always busy with something else." She muttered.
Her tone hardened. "I'm telling you, Sun. Someone went in that vault. You need to check it out."
"...Yeah I hear you."
"And be careful out there," she said, softer. "You know the Underbelly folks there hate you."
A dry chuckle rattled through the line. "Didn't seem that bad when I killed Velkon. They cheered."
"That was daylight. Broad daylight." Eris sighed, puffing out smoke. "You know they don't make moves in daylight. Night's different. They do all those smiles on for show, at night, that's where they show their true selves. It's called Underbelly for a reason. You know this."
The line crackled. Then silence.
"Sun?" Eris lifted her head and looked at the screen. They call got disconnected.
"Damn." She blew out another smoke from the cig.
At the Underbelly District.
The Underbelly breathed smoke and gunfire. Breathed of danger and secrets.
Blinding Sun walked with his hood pulled low, the glow of his powers dimmed beneath layers of patched street clothes. Disguise wasn't his strength; he was always a straightforward kind of hero, but in the Underbelly, shining too bright was a death sentence.
The streets writhed with neon graffiti, rusted scaffolds leaning like broken ribs over alleys. People slumped in shattered VR pods, their eyes flickering with ghost-light dreams. The air itself tasted metallic, every breath carrying the sting of oil smoke. In the distance, energized gunshots. Screams that rose, then fell.
Blinding Sun never liked the Underbelly. Always had. Its ugliness was unfiltered, unrepentant. That's why he always avoided missions that had been assigned to him that were in the Underbelly. A good thing about being a world hero is that he gets distracted from helping other countries and other cities. But now he needs to go to the Underbelly to ease his gut feeling about the student, Slyvian Blackbird.
He moved carefully, scanning faces, searching for one answer.
A man in rags sat slouched against a wall, hair wild, beard matted. His eyes darted up when Sun approached.
"Excuse me, sir. May I-"
"Ehh?" The man snorted. "I ain't no sir. Nobody calls me sir. Name's PrimPo!"
"Right. Sorry, PrimPo." Sun adjusted, forcing a polite nod. "Can I have a moment of your time?"
"Get on with it! What d'you want, huh?"
He flicked his wrist. A hologram shimmered in his palm, Slyvian's school ID.
"Do you know this girl? She studies at Cyrus Academy. Lives somewhere around here. If so, do you know her father?"
PrimPo's face froze. Too still. His eyes flicked once to the hologram, then away.
"I don't know her. Don't know no girl. And ain't got nothin' to know nothin!" He scrambled up, brushing past Sun. "Get away from me!"
PrimPo vanished into the alleys.
"Okay, that was weird."
Sun tried again with others, street vendors, addicts leaning on the corners, a woman in a cracked mask. Each time, silence. Quick steps backward. Eyes turning away. They knew. Every one of them knew. And none of them would answer.
The street slowly emptied.
He stopped, realizing the shift. No more voices. No more footsteps. No more screaming. Just smoke rolling low across the ground.
Click. Click. Click.
The sound of heels. Slow. Coming from the distance.
From the haze stepped a tall woman. Chrome fangs caught the faint glow of a street lamp. A cloak trailed behind her, but it wasn't fabric, it was smoke, alive, curling, stretching like wings. Her eyes gleamed silver.
Smoke Angel. Leader of the Ashteeth.
The gang walked out from the dark alleys around her, circling Sun like sharks.
"Well, well..." Her rasping voice slid across the street. "The golden boy himself, glowing in my gutters." She bared her chrome teeth in a smile that wasn't a smile. "You got fucking guts showing your shiny ass down here."
Sun stayed still. Calm.
"You think you're hunting answers? In my streets? Wrong move, hero. I let it slide when you killed Velkon, in broad fucking daylight. But no hero, no one, comes here at night to ask questions. Not even you, Golden Shit."
The Ashteeth tightened their circle. Chains rattled. Sparks cracked from jury-rigged weapons.
Sun's light flared faintly under his hood. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I only want answers."
He lifted the hologram again, Slyvian's face flickering in the dark streets.
"Do you know this girl? She goes to Cyrus Academy. She lives here."
Smoke Angel's eyes lingered on the hologram. Recognition flickered, but only for a heartbeat. Then it was gone.
Her tone dropped colder. "Wow, the second you walked your shiny ass in here, you ask questions that's none of your business and now you disrespect me by the second you stand here in my district."
Her smoke-weave cloak stretched, tendrils curling like chains. The Ashteeth closed in.
The alley darkened, smoke rolling low across the cracked pavement. Tendrils slithered from her cloak, curling around pipes and railings like living chains, tightening the noose.
Blinding Sun straightened, his hood slipping back just enough for his face to glow faintly in the haze. His hands hovered open at his sides, light building in his palms.
"I don't want a fight," he said "I just want to know if you know the girl and her father."
Smoke Angel laughed, chrome fangs catching the flicker of neon. The sound wasn't warm, it rasped, jagged, like broken glass scraping together.
"Too late. You walk into my gutters, asking about a girl and her father, and think I'll hand you answers like candy?" She stepped closer, boots crunching glass. Her gang mirrored her, weapons clanging against steel and chain. "You're already in trouble the moment you breathed our air."
Blinding Sun's light pulsed brighter beneath his skin, an instinctive shield. The smog shimmered with it, forcing shadows to recoil an inch.
"Step aside, Angel," he warned. "I don't want to burn this place down."
"Oh, honey." She said in a mockery tone. Her smoke stretched higher, blotting out the flickering signs overhead, tendrils arching over him like a cage. "You think, your little light scares us? The Underbelly eats suns like you for breakfast."
The Ashteeth lunged first. Chains whipped out, sparking with stolen current. A smoke bomb hissed, flooding the street in a choking cloud. One raised a shotgun wired with glowing tubes, firing bursts of green flame.
Blinding Sun moved, his glow igniting in sharp bursts. Each step cracked the smog open, slicing beams of condensed radiance through the haze. Chains melted in his hands, gunfire ricocheted against his shield of brilliance.
But the smoke cloak was alive. Tendrils lashed at his arms and legs, gripping like iron, yanking him back toward the gang's circle.
The smoke thickened, suffocating, pressing into his lungs. Tendrils wrapped his arms, locking him down, while chains sparked against his glow, rattling with every failed strike.
Blinding Sun gritted his teeth, every instinct screaming to flare, to burn hot enough to erase every thing in a mile. But he held back. If he unleashed, half this street would be ash. And despite everything, despite their teeth and claws and smoke and ugly district... they were still people.
The Ashteeth weren't kind, but they weren't gods. They are fragile like all others. And he refused to cut them down.
So he fought differently. Controlled bursts of light cracked against the chains, forcing them to recoil without searing flesh. He twisted free of one tendril, only for two more to lash around his legs, dragging him down onto broken glass.
A boot slammed against his ribs. Laughter echoed.
Smoke Angel loomed, chrome fangs gleaming in the crimson haze. Her cloak coiled tight, pinning him against the pavement.
"See?" Her rasp was triumphant. "Your light doesn't belong here. You don't belong here."
Blinding Sun's glow dimmed under the weight. His palms pressed into the ground, a soft shimmer trembling beneath his skin. He could have ended this. He could have killed them all with a single flare. But he didn't.
"Move," he said hoarsely, his voice cutting through the smog. "Again, I'm not here to fight you."
"And like I said Goldie. Too late," Smoke Angel hissed. "This is the only fight you'll ever-"
The street ruptured with a new sound.
THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.
Heavy, mechanical steps. Cold and synchronized.
From the alley mouth, five silhouettes advanced, their metal frames gleaming with polished armor, faces blank plates etched with a single crimson line.
"STOP NOW," the lead unit boomed, voice flat, inhuman. "OR FACE ENFORCEMENT."
The Ashteeth faltered, chains lowering. Even Smoke Angel's smoke tendrils loosened an inch, tension rippling through her stance.
"Shit." Angel scowled.
V.E.I.L. bots.
Their rifles powered with a rising whine, red lights scanning the gang, the hero, the smoke-filled street.
"CEASE RESISTANCE. LAW IS ABSOLUTE. NONCOMPLIANCE WILL RESULT IN TERMINATION."
Blinding Sun pushed to his feet, smoke sliding reluctantly off him. His glow pulsed faintly again, not at the gang this time, but at the new threat. Sure, he has worked with V.E.I.L before but he never really agreed with their... harsh approach.
Smoke Angel's laughter broke the silence.
"Well, look at that. Golden boy, saved by the tin men. How sweet."
Her gang slipped back into the shadows, the cloak of smoke pulling with them. She followed behind them. Vanishing completely, along with the smoke.
The V.E.I.L. bots turned their lenses toward him. Still, silent, unblinking.
"STATE YOUR PURPOSE," one demanded.
Blinding Sun exhaled slowly, hood shadowing his face again. His hand tightened on the hologram in his pocket.
He didn't get answers. But the way Smoke Angel reacted to Slyvian's image told him enough.
The whole district knew her. And that meant he couldn't leave. Not yet.
"I'm Blinding Sun. The world hero. I'm just here for business."
The bots' scanners swept him in a clinical flash of red light, humming as they confirmed his ID.
"IDENTITY CONFIRMED. BLINDING SUN. WORLD HERO. DESIGNATION: HIGH VALUE."
Their rifles powered down in perfect synchronization. The lead unit stepped back, voice flat and without pause.
"YOU WILL PROCEED. INTERFERENCE WITH V.E.I.L. OPERATIONS IS PROHIBITED."
Blinding Sun straightened, brushing dust from his sleeve. His glow pulsed brighter for just a second, a reflex against the cold gaze of machines he never trusted.
"Yeah," he muttered lowly. "Wouldn't dream of interfering."
The bots pivoted sharply, their heavy footfalls retreating into the dark streets, their voices echoing one final time:
"ORDER IS ABSOLUTE."
Silence followed.
Blinding Sun stayed rooted for a moment, staring into the alleys where Smoke Angel and her gang had vanished, his jaw tight. Then he pulled the hologram from his pocket again, Slyvian's face flickering faintly in the dark.
Everyone down here knew her. Smoke Angel knew her. And V.E.I.L. showing up this fast? That wasn't chance. V.E.I.L. always did their rounds in the Underbelly late. Always.
He pulled his hood lower, stepping back into the Underbelly haze.
If answers were here, he would find them. Even if it meant spending more nights in the Underbelly.
But first, he needs a new disguise.
