Chapter 3

The sewer's damp chill seeped into Elena's bones as she clutched the dented communicator, its faint hum a low, pulsing heartbeat in the stagnant air.

She pressed the button.

A shrill ring cut through the silence.

Each tone was a dagger twisting in her ribs.

Her breath hitched.

A storm of dread and longing swirled in her chest—she had spent years dreading this moment, yet now she was praying for an answer.

The others watched her.

Their shadowed faces flickered under the swaying bulb, a mixture of skepticism and curiosity.

Kellan leaned against the slimy wall, arms crossed, scarred knuckles glinting under the dim light.

Lira fidgeted, her cracked goggles slipping as she bounced on her heels.

Soren twirled her blade idly, her smirk hinting at mockery.

Dax sat slumped, hood drawn low, but even he tilted his head, listening to the endless ring-ring that echoed against the grime-slick walls.

Elena's grip tightened.

Her burnt hand trembled, her scarred fingers pressing deeper into the cold, rusted edges of the device.

Each ring dragged on.

Relief crept in. Maybe they wouldn't answer.

A bitter, ugly thing—because if they didn't answer, it meant she didn't have to hope.

Finally, the ringing stopped.

Silence.

The communicator fell mute in her hand.

A breath she hadn't realized she was holding slipped past her lips—shaky, uncertain.

Then—

Laughter.

Kellan's chuckle rumbled first.

"What, your big savior's dead, Voss?" His voice was laced with mock pity. "Buried under some rock somewhere?"

Lira snorted, crossing her arms. "Or maybe they're just too smart to pick up for a lost cause like us."

"Some mystery hero," Soren sneered, flipping her blade in a slow, lazy arc. "Probably a myth you made up to keep yourself sane."

Dax's quiet murmur cut through the jeers. "I didn't sense anyone. Maybe they're gone. Or never existed."

Elena's jaw clenched.

Their words stung.

But she pressed the button again.

Ring.

The laughter died.

The sound cut through the tunnel like a blade, sharper than their mockery.

She could feel their eyes on her—watching.

Judging.

But she wouldn't give up.

Not yet.

Not when the world outside was nothing but ash and ruin.

The rings stretched on, each one a heartbeat louder in her ears, until—

Click.

The line connected.

The group froze.

Silence.

The only sound was the hiss of static.

Elena's throat went dry.

She forced herself to speak, her voice raw, urgent.

"It's me—Elena Voss. We need you. The superheroes need you."

The sewer held its breath.

The others stood stone-still, their earlier jeers forgotten.

For a long, agonizing moment, the only reply was the drip of water from the ceiling.

Then—

A voice.

Young.

Female.

Cold as a blade pressed to the throat.

"No. I'm done."

The line went dead.

The communicator's hum snuffed out, leaving behind an abyss of silence.

Elena stared at the device in her hand.

The others burst into laughter.

Kellan slapped the wall, his deep laughter booming. "Scared little girl on the other end? That's your big hope?"

Lira doubled over, nearly wheezing. "She's hiding under her bed, Voss! Probably shaking at the thought of those villains!"

"Pathetic," Soren spat, sheathing her blade with a sharp clack. "You dragged us down here for a coward?"

Dax shook his head. "Maybe she's smart. Smarter than us, staying out of this mess."

Elena's burnt hand curled into a fist.

Nails dug into her scarred palm as their jeers bounced off the filthy walls.

She wanted to scream.

To hurl the communicator at them.

But despair anchored her in place.

Her voice barely a whisper, she muttered, "You don't get it. She's not just anyone. She's—"

"Who?" Kellan cut in, his tone mocking. "A ghost? A quitter? We're done here, Voss."

Their brief unity fractured in the rancid air.

Lira kicked at the filth, voice laced with bitterness. "This is it, then. No bases, no help—just us and the shit we're standing in."

Soren turned away, her frost-kissed hair catching the dim light. "Cursed life. Should've died fighting."

Dax stood, hollow-eyed. "I'm out. There's nothing left to save."

Kellan lingered longest.

Then he shrugged.

"Good luck with your fairy tales, Voss."

One by one, they slipped into the shadows.

Their footsteps splashed faintly as they vanished into the sewer's depths.

Elena remained.

Alone.

The flickering bulb swayed like a pendulum over her head.

The silence pressed in, thick and suffocating, her scarred reflection staring back from the filth at her feet.

She sank against the wall, the communicator slipping from her grasp, clattering into the muck.

What now?

The question gnawed at her.

Unanswered.

The drip-drip of water marked the seconds of her solitude.

Then—

A sharp ring shattered the quiet.

Elena's body jerked upright.

The communicator buzzed in the filth.

Her pulse roared in her ears.

She stared at it.

Frozen.

Was it a glitch?

A cruel echo?

Her burnt hand hovered, trembling.

Then—

She snatched it up.

Thumb slamming the button before doubt could stop her.

She lifted it to her ear.

Her breath held.

Praying.

Then—

A young man's voice cut through the static.

Casual.

Warm.

Completely unfazed.

"How you holding up, Elena?"

Her knees nearly buckled.

Relief surged through her, nearly cracking her composure.

"You picked up." Her voice shook. "Thank God, you picked up."

The man chuckled.

A sound so out of place in her ruined world, it almost hurt to hear.

"Took some convincing. What's going on?"

Elena swallowed. Words tumbled out.

"It's bad. Worse than bad. The supervillains took everything. The bases are gone. They've built their own empires."

"The heroes are dead, hiding, or traitors."

"We're all that's left. And we're drowning."

The man's tone stayed light, amused. "Sounds messy. What's an old guy like me supposed to do about it?"

Before Elena could answer, a sharp yell rang in the background—

A girl's voice, furious.

"Tell her no, you idiot! We're done with this!"

Elena's heart sank.

The man sighed, muttering, "Quiet down, will you?"

Then, louder:

"Alright, Voss. I'll meet you. Message the time and place."

Elena closed her eyes.

Breathless.

"I will. Soon."

The line cut.

Elena's scarred fingers dug into the communicator.

She had reached them.

But the girl's resistance lingered.

A storm.

And Elena needed a storm.