Wanted

Fletcher's broken, twitching body was dragged across the blood-soaked ground, his eldritch limbs hanging limp, his grotesque form barely clinging to life. The Nexus androids moved with eerie precision, their mechanical hands locking him in place as their leader signaled the extraction.

Barry watched in silence. His breath was ragged, his body aching, his fur slick with blood—his own, Fletcher's, and countless others.

The fight was over. But the war wasn't. A sharp click. Then—Cold steel against his wrists. Barry snapped his head to the side.

Captain Helena Stone stood there, her uniform dirtied, her face unreadable. Her men surrounded Barry, their weapons raised—not as if they expected another fight, but as if they weren't sure what to do with him.

Barry glanced down at the cuffs. Reinforced. Mutant-proof. Designed to hold things like him.

"Really?" Barry muttered, voice hoarse. "After all that?"

Stone didn't flinch. "After all that," she repeated.

Barry gritted his teeth. He wanted to fight back. To tell her he wasn't the villain here. But then he looked around. Yuccavale was in ruins. Buildings collapsed.

Bodies—human and mutant alike—littered the streets. The sky still burned with the last embers of the massacre. His fight with Fletcher had saved the town—But it had also nearly destroyed it.

Barry let out a slow breath, then lowered his head. He didn't resist. As the metal restraints locked into place, Captain Stone gave a single nod to her men.

"Take him in."

And just like that, the beast of Yuccavale was led away in chains.

Captain Stone stood in the wreckage, her boots crunching against debris and blood-stained dirt. The stench of death and burning metal clung to the air, suffocating in its weight. Mutants and humans alike lay motionless—some dead, some barely clinging to life.

Her gaze settled on Samuel. The young deputy lay slumped against the broken wall where Fletcher had hurled him. His body was battered, his breathing shallow, but he was alive.

"Get him up, now!" Stone barked at two of her men.

They rushed forward, lifting Samuel carefully. His face twisted in pain as they moved him, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out.

Stone's voice softened just a fraction. "You're damn lucky, Samuel."

He coughed weakly, eyes flickering open. "Yeah? Feels like hell."

She exhaled sharply. "Get him to the local hospital. Full priority medical attention."

As her men carried Samuel away, Stone turned her attention back to the carnage. The destruction was unfathomable. Yuccavale had barely survived, and that was with Nexus intervention. Without them? The town would've been erased.

Her hand clenched into a fist. The Mutant Treaty Act. It was supposed to protect human-mutant relations, to ensure peace. But this? This was not peace.

It was war waiting to happen. Her gaze drifted to Barry as he was dragged away in chains, his massive form shrunken, exhausted, resigned. Her jaw tightened.

"This treaty isn't enough," she muttered under her breath.

They needed stricter containment. More control. Because after tonight, one thing was clear—mutants weren't just people with abilities. They were weapons. And weapons needed to be contained.

Later that morning, the room is cold, sterile, and suffocatingly silent. A single flickering overhead light buzzed softly, casting shadows across the steel table where Barry sat, hands cuffed in reinforced chains. His knuckles were split, dried blood crusting over the wounds.

Across from him, a man in a dark CPG uniform sat with a tablet in hand, his expression unreadable. The nameplate on his chest read "INTERROGATOR KANE."

"Let's start with the basics," Kane said, his tone eerily calm. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "What the hell happened last night?"

Barry stared at him, unblinking. Kane exhaled through his nose. "You were seen transforming into a fully realized werewolf. That alone is enough to classify you as a level-four threat. Add to that the destruction of half the town and the deaths—human and mutant alike." He tapped the screen of his tablet. "Explain yourself."

Barry's jaw clenched. His mind replayed the carnage, the screams, the blood. He could still hear Fletcher's mocking voice, still smell the burning flesh.

"Fletcher happened," he finally said. His voice was rough, strained. "And you let him."

Kane's brow twitched. "Let him?"

"Your people took him to Abysra. You thought you could contain him. You were wrong." Barry's fists tightened against the cuffs. "And because of that, Yuccavale got slaughtered."

Kane tapped his fingers against the metal. "So you're saying this was our fault?"

Barry let out a hollow laugh, his gaze burning. "You're damn right I am."

Kane's stare was unreadable, but his fingers stopped moving. "And yet, here you are—the big, bad werewolf who finally showed his fangs. You're no different from him."

Barry lunged forward, but the chains yanked him back.

Kane didn't flinch. He simply smirked.

"You think that scares me? The whole damn world just saw what you are, Sheriff," he said, voice laced with quiet malice. "Now the question is, what do we do with you?"

In other room, holographic council chamber flickered to life. Six figures appeared in a circular projection, surrounding a single live feed—Captain Helena Stone.

She stood rigid, hands clasped behind her back, facing the most powerful lawmakers of Nexus.

The lead figure, Councilor Stroud, leaned forward. His voice clipped and controlled. "You are requesting an amendment to the Mutant Treaty Act—one that would effectively impose stricter control over all level-two-and-above mutants and classified witches?"

Stone nodded. "Correct."

Councilor Patel folded her arms. "And why, exactly, do you believe this is necessary?"

Stone's gaze is steel. "Because last night, a level-four mutant turned an entire town into a slaughterhouse. And the only thing that stopped him? Another level-four mutant."

Patel's lips thinned. "So your solution is blanket containment? Indiscriminately?"

"Yes."

Murmurs rippled through the council.

Stroud exhaled sharply. "Captain Stone, Nexus operates under a delicate balance with the local governments. The Treaty was put in place to prevent discrimination. What you're proposing would—"

"—prevent another Yuccavale!" Stone snapped. Her voice cut through the chamber like a blade.

Silence.

She took a slow breath, steadying herself. "This isn't about discrimination. This is about control. Yuccavale was nearly wiped off the map. Our laws are too weak. We need stricter containment, more oversight, and preemptive measures to ensure something like this never happens again."

Councilor Zhang leaned forward, eyes sharp. "Captain, your proposal criminalizes mutants for existing. Do you understand what you're suggesting? If we pass this, the mutant population will see it as an act of war."

Stone met his gaze, unwavering. "Then let them."

More whispers among the council.

Patel shook her head. "This will lead to revolt. We already have resistance groups fighting back against Nexus intervention. Do you want to give them more reason to rise up?"

Stone's jaw clenched. "I want to keep people safe. I want to prevent more bloodshed. If that means curfews, registration, and increased containment protocols, then so be it. They are dangerous."

Zhang's expression darkened. "And humans aren't?"

Stone hesitated.

Patel took the opportunity to strike. "We let Nexus intervene when a human serial killer is on the loose. We don't enslave every human because of one murderer. Why is this different?"

Stone's lips pressed into a thin line.

Stroud finally sighed. "We will deliberate on this matter, Captain. You will be informed of our decision soon."

The holograms flickered out one by one.

Stone remained standing in the dim chamber, her heartbeat thudding in her ears.

On the next momment, Barry sat across from Captain Helena Stone, his wrists still bound in Nexus-reinforced shackles. The office was dim, the only light coming from a small desk lamp casting shadows across Stone's face.

She was silent for a moment, just staring at him. Her expression unreadable, her fingers curled into fists. Then—she slapped him.

The sound cracked through the room like a gunshot. Barry's head snapped to the side, a faint growl rumbling in his throat as he tasted blood.

"That's for lying to me," she hissed.

Barry slowly turned his gaze back to her, his golden eyes burning with quiet defiance. "What the hell was I supposed to say? That I'm a monster? That I've been hiding what I am since the day I set foot in Yuccavale?"

Stone's glare was icy. "Yes."

She leaned forward, her voice razor-sharp. "You knew this day would come. You knew what Nexus does to your kind, and you still played sheriff like you belonged. But deep down, you knew, didn't you?"

Barry didn't answer.

"You're dangerous, Barry," she said, voice cold. "Maybe not as bad as Fletcher, but just as unpredictable. And now, thanks to you, Yuccavale is a war zone."

Barry clenched his fists. "I protected that town."

"You destroyed it!" she snapped. "You turned into a beast in the middle of the fight. People saw what you really are. Do you think they'll ever trust you again?"

Barry's jaw tightened.

Stone exhaled, her anger barely contained. She turned away, pressing a button on her desk. "Escort him."

Two heavily armed CPG officers stepped inside, their rifles pointed at Barry.

"Where are you taking me?" Barry asked, his voice dangerously low.

Stone finally looked at him, and the smallest flicker of regret flashed in her eyes before it vanished.

"You're going to the depth of Abysra."

Barry's blood turned to ice.

Stone leaned in, her voice quiet but final. "You're never getting out."

The descent was endless. The deeper they went, the more Barry felt the weight of the prison pressing down on him. Every level was colder, darker, the air filled with the distant screams and growls of the damned.

Then—they reached the bottom. The doors hissed open, revealing a massive chamber of black steel and pulsating security barriers. Cells lined the walls, each one reinforced with Nexus-grade containment fields.

Barry was shoved forward.

"Inmate #0425, Barry Leighton. Designation: Level-Four Mutant."

A mechanical voice announced his arrival as the guards unshackled him and shoved him into his cell. The doors sealed shut with an electronic whirr.

He turned, scanning his surroundings. The walls were smooth, featureless. No bed, no window—just a cold metal floor and silence. Then, from the darkness, a low chuckle.

Barry's eyes snapped to the cell across from him. A woman sat on the floor, her legs crossed, her head tilted as she watched him with a knowing smile.

She was dressed in black, her hair cascading like shadows over her shoulders. Her crimson eyes gleamed like bloodstains.

"Welcome to the abyss, Sheriff," she murmured.

Barry's heart pounded.

"You must be the Blood Artist."

She smirked. "And you, my dear wolf, are now just another prisoner."

Barry exhaled slowly, leaning his head against the cold metal wall.

Yuccavale is gone.

Lilian is gone.

Everything he fought for—gone. And now, deep in the bowels of Abysra, surrounded by monsters worse than himself, he had only one question left. Is this the end?

Meanwhile, the Nexus androids still moved in perfect synchronization, their metallic limbs clicking and whirring as they dragged Fletcher's mutilated body across the battlefield. His once-monstrous form was now a torn, grotesque mess—his eldritch flesh twitching, dark ichor seeping from wounds that should have killed him.

Yet, as they carried him toward the containment transport, something was wrong. Fletcher was smiling.

One of the androids scanned him. "Subject vital signs critical but stable. Proceeding with restrain—"

A low gurgling sound emanated from Fletcher's throat. Then—crack.

One of his tendrils lurched upward, piercing straight through an android's head. Sparks flew as the machine convulsed violently, its system failing before Fletcher ripped it apart like a child tearing through paper.

The other androids responded instantly. "Hostile! Engaging!"

Too late. Fletcher's remaining tendrils erupted outward, slicing through the machines in a maelstrom of mechanical carnage. Steel limbs shattered, artificial voices screamed in binary distress, but it was futile. Fletcher moved like a force of nature—an eldritch storm consuming everything.

He ripped an android's torso open, yanking out its power core before crushing it in his palm. Another android fired its high-frequency suppression rifle, but Fletcher absorbed the shot, his wounds closing at an inhuman rate. Within seconds, the entire squad lay in ruins.

Fletcher stood in the wreckage, his body shifting, regenerating. His flesh twisted into something even more monstrous—his tendrils thicker, his eyes glowing a deeper abyssal black.

He laughed. A deep, echoing sound that sent a pulse of dread through the blood-soaked air.

Then, he turned his gaze toward Yuccavale.

"It's not over, wolf," he murmured, his voice a cacophony of whispers and growls. And then—he vanished into the darkness.