Embers of Suspicion

The blaring alarm snapped me into motion before my mind had even caught up. The sharp wail echoed through the station, drowning out the background hum of casual chatter and clanking gear. Within seconds, the team was on the move—boots pounding against concrete, suits being grabbed, masks secured. The air shifted, charged with urgency.

We piled into the truck, the familiar rumble of the engine vibrating through my chest as we sped toward the scene. A park. A playground, specifically. The dispatcher's voice crackled over the radio, confirming what we'd already been told: active flames, potential civilians trapped.

The adrenaline surged, but this time it wasn't the chaotic rush of uncertainty. It was focused. Controlled.

As I suited up in the back of the truck, everything felt different—sharper. My mind wasn't racing like it had during my first call. Thermal Perception and Hazard Assessment, even at low levels, painted a clearer picture in my head. I could almost feel the patterns of heat and danger waiting for us, like faint outlines etched into my instincts.

When we arrived, flames licked the edges of the playground equipment, thick smoke curling into the sky like a signal flare. Screams echoed faintly beneath the roar of the fire. Without hesitation, we moved.

Each step I took was deliberate, my boots pounding against scorched ground with purpose. The smoke didn't disorient me like before. The heat didn't sap my focus. I saw the signs—weak points in the burning structures, the dangerous shimmer of heat distortion that warned of an impending collapse.

I found them near the old wooden fort structure—two kids, cornered by flames with no way out.

"Got eyes on civilians!" I shouted through the comms, my voice steady.

I moved fast, my actions a seamless flow of decisions. I navigated around the collapse points, dodged falling debris without second-guessing, and reached the kids. Their eyes were wide with fear, but there was no time to comfort them. I scooped them up, positioning my body between them and the fire, and made my way back with precision that felt… natural.

When it was over, the adrenaline faded, leaving me with a profound sense of clarity. I was getting better.

But the fires weren't stopping.

The next day, it was the mall.

A sprawling labyrinth of burning hallways, choking smoke, and panicked civilians. Despite the chaos, I felt in control. During that mission, I copied Logan's Rescue Tactics skill, adding another tool to my growing arsenal. Each fire was a test, and I was acing them.

But then came the third day.

A school.

By then, even the veterans at the station were starting to exchange uneasy glances. Three fires in three days? In the same district? No one said it aloud, but we all felt it—something was wrong.

I tried to shake off the nagging suspicion that clawed at the back of my mind. Was this about me? Had someone figured out who Mr. Fox really was, and now they were… toying with me? Setting fires just to watch me dance?

No. I couldn't afford that kind of paranoia. Not now.

Focus.

At the school, things escalated quickly. The building groaned under the strain of the fire, parts of it collapsing like paper under a torch. Kids were trapped again—cornered in an upper floor with the flames climbing fast.

I didn't hesitate.

This time, when I saw Chief Ryan coordinating the rescue efforts, I copied his Rescue Efficiency skill. As soon as it registered, something unexpected happened.

[Skill Fusion Detected!]

Combining: Rescue Operations (Lv. 3), Rescue Tactics (Lv. 1), Rescue Efficiency (Lv. 1)

Result: Advanced Rescue Mastery (Lv. 1): Maximizes speed, precision, and strategic effectiveness when locating, extracting, and securing individuals from high-risk, unstable, or hazardous environments. Enhances adaptability in dynamic rescue scenarios and improves team coordination during complex operations.

The effect was immediate. My movements were faster, smoother. I anticipated the building's shifts before they happened. I coordinated instinctively with the rest of the team, like we were all pieces of the same machine.

I saved the kids.

Back at the station, Chief Ryan clapped a firm hand on my shoulder, his rough grip grounding me.

"You did good, Mr. Fox," he said, his voice carrying that quiet authority he always had. But then his tone shifted slightly, dropping to something more serious. "But… I think you've noticed it too. There've been too many fires lately. This isn't normal."

I nodded. "Why are you telling me this?"

Ryan's gaze met mine through the mask, but it felt like he was seeing through it—like he saw me.

"Because I trust you," he said simply. "You save lives. And even through that fox mask, it's clear you struggle. No one would do that to themselves unless they had a damn good reason."

His words hit harder than I expected.

When my shift ended, I went home to Sienna.

She was waiting for me on the couch, her eyes softening the moment I walked in.

"You seem worn out," she whispered, beckoning me to sit next to her.

I exhaled a sigh I hadn't noticed I was keeping in. We remained silent for a while, the stillness soothing amidst the turmoil of the previous days. In the end, I said something.

"I have something to share with you," I murmured gently. "Actually, two things."

She turned to me, her attention sharp, unwavering.

"First… skills can combine into stronger ones. I didn't even know that was possible until today."

Her eyes widened slightly, but she nodded, absorbing the information.

"And second… it's clear now. Someone is causing these fires. This isn't random."

Sienna was quiet for a long moment, her fingers tightening around mine.

"Do you think your the cause of it? Like someone being after you?" she asked gently.

I shook my head. "I don't know. But there's clearly something..no someone else in play here."

I stared at the wall, my thoughts spiraling, connecting dots with my Strategist skill, until it reached a possible conclusion.

"I think it's someone from Station 47."

And the thought settled over me like ash after the fire—quiet, suffocating, undeniable.