Not Again

A car sped down the busy highway, weaving through the mass of vehicles ahead. Inside, four occupants held their breath, three boys and one girl.

The girl, sitting in the front passenger seat, nervously shook the driver. "Come on, come on. We're almost safe, Dean."

Dean gripped the steering wheel tightly, switching lanes for the sixth time. "I know, I know. You don't have to rush me. I'm trying to concentrate."

The two passengers in the back seat wore tense expressions, their anxiety reflecting in the air.

"Cheer up, you guys. Do you realize what we just did? What we accomplished?" The girl turned to face the two boys in the back seat. "We ganked from the Reds. We actually pulled it off. All we have to do now is get into Berg's territory, and we'll be rich." She smiled dreamily. "Just think of it. Imagine it. All that credit and, as the icing on the cake, backing from Berg himself."

The two boys in the back seat managed weak smiles, mimicking her enthusiasm as they daydreamed about their future.

Then, a sudden red blur flashed past the car.

The girl's eyes widened in terror. "DRIVE FASTER!" she screamed.

Dean's face turned ghostly white. "We're going as fast as we can already, Leah."

"DRIVE FASTER!" she screamed again, grabbing his arm. "They've found us! They've sent a Brand!"

The glass on the left passenger side shattered, and Bon was gone. Moments later, the right side window exploded, and Cole vanished. Dean swore, his hands still on the wheel, but before he could react, the driver's window shattered. Leah caught a fleeting glimpse of his feet as he was ripped from the seat.

Leah lunged for the spinning steering wheel, her hands desperately gripping it. But the car was going too fast, and the road ahead curved sharply.

The car veered off the bridge.

////

Ding.

The elevator doors opened, and Maxwell stepped out, making his way to the exit while offering a smile to any hospital personnel who walked by. Soon, he was outside.

As he stepped out into the open air, a feeling immediately rose within him—fear. A deep, unsettling wariness of the outside world that had taken so much from him.

He briefly considered calling for a vehicle but changed his mind, deciding to walk instead, defying the instinctual tug in his gut.

Walking along the sidewalk in the general direction of his neighborhood, Maxwell allowed his mind to wander.

Two months had passed since he was admitted to the hospital, five months since Ben's death. "Ben," he whispered softly.

Standing at an intersection, his fists tightened, raised before him, the noise from passing cars threatening to drown out his thoughts.

Revenge. Maxwell's mind immediately erupted with emotions. Part of him came up with multiple reasons to convince himself that it was a good idea. But Maxwell knew better.

Ben had died caught in the crossfire between gangs and a powerful politician. What could he possibly do to people like that? He had no connections, had never been in a fight.

No, he thought. Revenge is impossible. Besides, Ben wouldn't want that for me.

He quickly crossed the intersection, glancing left and right, even though the light was green. (Gang members usually didn't care about traffic lights.)

"I'm a Brand now," he whispered once again. Yes. The biggest revelation since his 'accident.' He had been branded by a Kyrennei. "I don't feel any different. What can grasshoppers even do?" He wondered, noticing the large bridge ahead, crossing over the normal highway. "I can't even work menial labor anymore. Damn, I don't even know how to fight."

That was Maxwell's problem. While Brands were rare, they weren't impossible to find. Kyrennei were incredibly hard to spot because you couldn't tell them apart from normal animals until they found a compatible host. And most of the time, the Kyrennei were just random animals with no meaningful abilities. But the government had figured out how to extract the gene from the Kyrennei and apply it directly, regardless of compatibility. Brands made this way were sometimes weaker than traditional Brands, but not by much.

The issue was that most Brands who weren't part of the Defense Force, Assault Force, or Special Force ended up as freelancers, mercenaries, or bodyguards. None of them ever chose menial labor. And, of course, most Brands needed powerful backing. Without it, there was nothing stopping someone from extracting the Kyrennei gene from a Brand, killing them in the process.

"What am I going to do?" Maxwell lamented, staring up at the artificial sky, hoping for some kind of answer. "Come on, Ben, give me a sign. You already saved me. I don't mind if you drop an answer right in front of me. Pretty please."

As Maxwell kept his gaze fixed on the sky, something caught his eye. A car hurtling off the bridge above, spinning wildly in mid-air. And, of course, it was heading straight for him.

"This isn't what I meant!" he yelled, bolting for cover.

Crash!

Maxwell dove behind a concrete barrier just as the car slammed onto the pavement, skidding violently and sending sparks flying. He covered his head as debris scattered in every direction, the metallic screech of the car grinding against asphalt filling the air.

The groans of the car's occupants followed, faint yet unmistakable amid the chaos.

Slowly, Maxwell peeked over the barrier. The car lay on its side, steam hissing from the crumpled hood. Inside, he saw a figure struggling against a tangled seatbelt. Ignoring the voice in his head urging him to stay hidden, Maxwell sprinted toward the wreckage.

"Hang on!" he shouted, gripping the door handle and tugging hard. It didn't budge. He cursed under his breath and glanced around, searching for something to use as leverage.

"Help! Please!" a faint, desperate voice called from inside.

Maxwell spotted a metal rod among the scattered debris. Grabbing it, he wedged it into the doorframe and pushed with all his strength. The metal groaned in protest, but with one final shove, the door gave way.

The girl tumbled out, coughing and gasping for air. Maxwell caught her, steadying her as she leaned heavily against him. His eyes scanned the wreck, searching for other passengers. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

The girl continued coughing for a moment, her breaths ragged as she clung to him. As her composure returned, she seemed to realize how close they were, her cheeks flushing a deep red.

"I-I'm fine," she stammered, stepping back hastily. She avoided his gaze, brushing herself off. "Thanks... for saving me."

Maxwell stared back at the wreckage, his thoughts racing. "It's, uh... cool. Yeah." He turned to the girl, frowning slightly. "How did that even happen?" He studied her closely. She doesn't look drunk.

The girl's eyes widened suddenly, darting to the bridge behind her. "I can't stay here, they'll catch up!" she blurted out, panic overtaking her as she backed away.

Maxwell blinked, trying to process her words. "Wait, who's 'they'..."

Before he could finish, she turned and ran toward a nearby alley. Maxwell hesitated, torn between curiosity and self-preservation. "Nope. No way," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "I am not walking into a dark, spooky alley with a stranger I just met."

Boom!

The ground shook as something slammed into the pavement behind him. Maxwell froze, his blood running cold. Slowly, he turned his head toward the source of the noise, peering into the cloud of dust and smoke rising from the impact.

A tall, crimson figure began to emerge, its outline sharp and menacing.

Maxwell's heart sank. "Oh, shit. Not again."