Echoes of Betrayal

Chapter 2

Twelve Years Ago

The flickering streetlight cast long, jagged shadows on the empty road. Isaac staggered forward, clutching his bleeding side, each step leaving a small crimson trail in his wake. Behind him, three silhouettes emerged from the darkness.

One of them kicked him hard, sending him crashing to the pavement.

A figure stepped closer—dressed in a black spandex suit, a mask concealing their entire face. Without hesitation, they pressed their boot down on Isaac's open wound.

"I have him," the figure said, their voice distorted into a cold, mechanical growl, likely by the mask.

Repulsion.

Isaac summoned the last of his strength, blasting the assailants backward in a pulse of energy. As he scrambled to his feet, one lunged, driving a knife into his back. The blade slid in with a sickening squelch.

"You've still got some fight in you, huh?" the masked figure sneered.

"If you'd just kept quiet, maybe this wouldn't have happened. No hard feelings, Hero X."

Isaac let out a strangled cry. His hand trembled as he reached toward the masked figure, his body vibrating uncontrollably. Blood pooled beneath him, mixing with the fragments of his own torn flesh.

"I'm not done yet," Isaac growled through gritted teeth. His face twisted into a savage grin, his heterochromatic eyes—one green, one grey—flashing with dangerous resolve.

"I'm surviving this for everyone i love" 

"I've had enough… I'm killing you now." said the leader 

Isaac took a shaky step forward but faltered, the ground tilting beneath him as his vision blurred.

"Not now… Don't black out on me…" he muttered, swaying.

Suddenly, a small canister rolled between them, hissing as it expelled a thick, white smoke.

"Come on, honey. Let's get you out of here," a familiar voice whispered, guiding him to his feet.

"Eunice…?" Isaac rasped, barely able to stand.

+

Present Day

"Stay with me, Janice! Come on!" Malick's voice cracked as he gripped Janice's hand. She convulsed violently in the chair, the jagged claw marks on her arm seeping black, tar-like blood.

On the couch nearby, Isaac's eyes fluttered open. In an instant, he was on his feet.

"What's happening?" he asked, his voice sharp with concern.

"She was infected yesterday by a Nightgaunt," Malick said, hands trembling as he wiped sweat from his brow.

"Does she have VOR resistance yet?"

"No. No abilities have manifested. At this rate…" Malick hesitated, glancing at Janice's spasming form. "She'll turn into a Revenant. I can't let that happen."

"She won't," Isaac said, his tone resolute. "I promise."

His eyes darted to a nearby syringe.

"Wait… that's—"

Isaac didn't hesitate. He jabbed the needle into his own arm, drawing blood before injecting it into Janice's wound.

"This should slow the infection."

He grabbed a hoodie from the shelf and pulled it over his head.

"Where are you going?" Malick demanded.

"To see someone. She might be able to help."

"In Nova?" Malick's expression darkened.

Isaac frowned. "What am I missing?"

Malick exhaled slowly, shaking his head.

"Things aren't the same, Isaac. The world you fought for… it's gone. Since Sierra Nova's greatest hero vanished, everything's crumbled. The colony's fractured. Sierra belongs to the rich and powerful now. Nova's been left to rot. The system's broken, and now it's trying to snuff out the last bit of hope before it can even bloom." Malick let out a hollow chuckle.

"This is how it always goes. Everyone I care about… they all leave."

Isaac rested a hand on Malick's shoulder, locking eyes with him.

"I won't let anything happen to her."

Malick looked away, unconvinced.

"I've stopped believing in heroes." His voice dropped to a whisper. "If you're going… down the hall to the left. There's an abandoned subway. It leads straight into Sierra."

Isaac nodded, pulling his hood up.

"I'll bring her back."

Malick said nothing, but his gaze lingered on Janice, hope flickering faintly—too faint to trust.

+

Isaac climbed the final flight of stairs, Malick's words echoing in his mind.

The sun met him at the top, glaring bright and unforgiving. He squinted, shielding his eyes until his vision adjusted.

Sierra hung above the broken world like a crown—its ivory towers veined with gold, glowing beneath the soft radiance of an artificial sun. Rivers of light coursed through marble streets, weaving between lush gardens and glass bridges suspended high in the air. Waterfalls cascaded from rooftop terraces, and hover-cars glided silently overhead. Along the perimeter, shimmering shields pulsed faintly, while sentinels drifted through the clouds like specters on patrol.

Far below, Nova stretched out like a scar across the land. From this height, it was no more than a dark smudge—faint and distant at the edge of paradise.

"Move it!" a hover-cab driver snapped, jolting Isaac back to the present as the vehicle swerved past him.

Isaac exhaled sharply, pulling his hood up over his head.

"I need to find Eunice—fast," he muttered, stepping onto the crowded street.

High above, a road-cam whirred softly, its lens swiveling to track him as he disappeared into the flow of people.

+

A haunting violin melody drifted through the grand, opulently decorated hall. A scarlet rug stretched down the center, dividing the space in two, while marble busts of long-dead figures watched solemnly from their pedestals along the walls.

At the far end, a man in a dark suit rapped lightly on a door, the sound of the violin swelling behind it. Without waiting for an invitation, he pushed it open.

The room beyond was cloaked in darkness, with only slivers of light slipping through the heavy velvet drapes. The suited man hesitated at the threshold, eyes drawn to the slender, imposing figure standing by the window. His dark blue hair, tied neatly in a ponytail, caught the faintest glimmer of light as the final note faded.

Cold, blue eyes opened, pinning him in place. A chill traced the man's spine.

"General Voss… I—I bring news, sir," the man stammered.

"And this couldn't wait?" Voss's voice was smooth but sharp, like glass under pressure.

"N-No, sir."

"Speak."

Voss pressed a button on his desk, and the drapes slid apart, flooding the room with light. Rows of violins lined one wall, polished and gleaming. Bookshelves towered on the other, crammed with leather-bound volumes. The general poured himself a glass of deep red wine, swirling it idly as he waited.

"We've received a report, sir. A video—Isaac Hart was spotted."

Lucien Voss froze mid-sip.

"Did you say Isaac Hart?"

"Yes, sir. Thirty minutes ago. He was last seen heading north through an abandoned subway."

Voss's lips curled into a slow, knowing smile.

"I knew you wouldn't die so easily… but four years? You really took your time, X," he murmured.

He set his glass down with a soft clink and crossed to the door, lifting a long coat and hat from a nearby rack.

"You're dismissed. I'll be stepping out shortly."

The man gave a sharp nod. "Shall I prepare your ride, sir?"

"Do."

As the man hurried back down the hall, Lucien's restrained smile cracked, spilling into soft laughter that echoed faintly through the room.

+

Isaac stood in front of a house that felt slightly out of place, its worn edges and faded paint contrasting with the sleeker homes lining the street. He gently pushed open the small gate, wincing as it let out a grating screech.

"Now who could that be?" A voice drifted from the side of the house.

An elderly woman emerged, holding a gardening shovel in one hand and a bucket in the other. Her eyes narrowed as she approached.

"Grandma," Isaac said softly, lowering his hood.

She froze, squinting at him for a long moment.

"Jesus Christ… Isaac? Is that really you?"

"Yes, Grandma. It's me."

She glanced around nervously before waving him inside.

"Come in, quick," she urged, her voice lowering.

As Isaac stepped forward, his eyes caught on a tombstone near the entrance. He stopped, staring at the face engraved on the stone. Tears welled and slipped down his cheeks.

"Come on, son," his grandmother said gently, taking his hand. "There's a lot to talk about."

Inside, the house smelled faintly of tea and old books. She guided him to the kitchen and moved toward a cabinet, pouring tea into a cup with steady hands.

"How long has it been?" Isaac asked, his voice quiet.

She set the cup down in front of him.

"Four years," she replied. Her tone softened as she looked toward the window. "Since Eunice passed."

Isaac's head snapped up. "Eunice… she died protecting me?"

His grandmother's eyes held his.

"You don't remember?" she asked, sitting across from him. "You were a target. Maybe you crossed the wrong people. They wanted you gone."

Isaac ran his hands over his face, exhaling sharply.

"That night, you came to us," she continued. "Eunice put you in cryogenic sleep. She wouldn't let them near you." Her voice trembled. "She gave her life to keep you safe."

"Fuck it," Isaac whispered, his hands trembling.

"Watch your mouth," she scolded, though there was no real heat behind it.

Isaac let out a faint, humorless chuckle.

"You haven't changed a bit." She smiled softly. "I'm glad… glad her sacrifice wasn't wasted."

Her gaze drifted to a portrait on the wall – a young woman in a lab coat, smiling brightly. Her long black hair was tucked neatly behind her ear.

"She loved you, Isaac. Don't waste your life doing something reckless."

Isaac stared at the portrait for a long moment before nodding.

"Thanks, Grandma… I need the keys to the lab. There's something I have to get."

"What could that be?"

"A drug Eunice and I were working on. A friend needs it—urgently."

"The keys are on the shelf," his grandmother said, gesturing with a slight nod.

Isaac grabbed them, lingering by the door for a moment.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect her… but I'll make this right. I promise."

She watched him quietly, the weight of the past heavy between them, but said nothing.

+

A sleek black Corvette rolled to a stop outside a towering glass building, its transparent façade exposing the pulse of elevators and the hum of activity within.

Lucien Voss stepped out, his polished shoes clicking softly against the pavement. He strode toward the entrance, cutting a sharp path through the bustle of pedestrians, and approached the massive mahogany front desk.

"How may I assist you?" the robotic attendant behind the counter inquired, its eyes flickering to life.

Lucien slipped a golden button onto the desk—its surface engraved with an eagle insignia.

The robot's head tilted slightly before responding.

"This way, please."

It guided him to a private elevator down the hall.

"Thank you," Lucien said, offering a faint smile.

"You are welcome, General Lucien Voss."

The elevator doors sealed with a soft hiss, and the hum of machinery carried him downward. Seconds later, the doors slid open to reveal a dimly lit chamber bathed in flickering neon.

The thick haze of heat and opium clung to the air, while half-conscious bodies slumped against the walls and floor, lost in their euphoric stupor.

Lucien stepped inside, his gaze sharp and indifferent as he crossed the room.

"General Voss… what an unexpected pleasure," a deep voice called out.

A man rose from his seat, pulling a syringe from a woman's arm as she melted into the couch with a sigh of ecstasy. He spread his arms in mock welcome, his muscular frame covered in ink—so densely tattooed that no bare skin remained.

Lucien ignored the gesture and made his way to the bar.

"You could've sent someone in your place," the man said, following Lucien and taking a seat beside him.

"My presence should tell you how important this is, Kain."

The bartender slid a glass of whiskey toward Lucien, who accepted it without a word.

"Oh? So… another job?" Kain asked, grinning.

"Not exactly. The last job you did for me was a failure."

Kain let out a low chuckle.

"Impossible."

Lucien pulled out his phone, turning the screen toward Kain. The smile faded from Kain's face as he studied the image.

"You know I don't tolerate failure," Lucien said evenly.

"Come on, General. I've never let you down—this was just a mistake."

"I don't tolerate mistakes either. I clean them up."

Kain's expression darkened, but he laughed through it.

"Wait… you're not suggesting what I think you are?"

Lucien's icy stare locked onto him.

Kain's laughter faded into silence.

"You really came here to handle this personally… Don't—"

Before he could finish, Lucien reached for a knife on the bar. Kain's reflexes kicked in just in time, leaning back to avoid the strike.

"Careful," Lucien warned, setting the knife down with deliberate slowness.

"You're serious," Kain muttered.

From the shadows, armed men began emerging, their weapons already drawn.

Kain raised a hand, signaling them to stand down.

"I can handle this."

At his command, the room slowly emptied, bodies slipping into the hallways and leaving the two men alone.

The door closed behind the last one.

Silence.

Kain leaned forward, elbows on the bar, eyes fixed on Lucien.

"So, what now, General?"

Lucien's faint smile returned, the knife still resting within reach.

"Now… we talk" 

Kain chuckled 

Kain slashed his palm, letting blood drip freely from the wound. As it struck the floor, the liquid hardened, twisting and expanding into the shape of a massive mace.

With a roar, Kain lunged at Lucien.

Lucien sidestepped effortlessly, delivering a precise punch to Kain's ribs. A sharp crack echoed through the room as bone gave way.

Kain swung the mace wildly, but Lucien slipped beneath the strike, driving his foot into Kain's knee. The joint buckled, forcing Kain to the ground with a grunt.

Without hesitation, Lucien plucked a knife from a nearby table and plunged it into Kain's neck.

Kain howled in pain, blood pooling at his feet. The crimson liquid shivered, then erupted into razor-sharp shrapnel that shot toward Lucien.

Time slowed.

Lucien weaved between the projectiles, each shard missing him by mere inches.

As the last of them clattered harmlessly to the floor, Lucien seized Kain by the hair, tilting his head back to meet his cold gaze.

"Maybe in your next life… you'll learn humility."

Lucien drove the blade into Kain's chest, piercing his heart.

"For good measure," he muttered, twisting the knife before yanking it free.

Kain's body slumped, lifeless.

Lucien wiped the blade clean with deliberate care, his expression unreadable.

"I'm coming for you, Isaac."

He stepped over Kain's corpse, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the empty room.