Chapter 9: Alley Demon

Somewhere beneath the unmarked streets of Koldavia, a man in a charcoal-black suit moved through a corridor so aggressively sterile it seemed to reject shadows. The walls emitted a glacial white luminescence, bleaching color from his crisp collar, his polished oxfords, the steel watch glinting at his wrist. His pace was surgical —each step precise, each turn memorized— until he halted at a door indistinguishable from the seamless walls. A biometric panel lit beneath his palm, and the door parted with a vacuum-sealed hiss.

Inside sprawled a control room bathed in the cold glow of hundreds of screens. They covered every surface like a digital hive —some flickering with mundane mundanity— commuters scowling at rain, children licking ice cream, clerks tapping keyboards. Others fixated on voids —abandoned factories where dust motes swam in dead air, subway tunnels where rats gnawed on forgotten things, forests where trees bent under the weight of silent histories.

At the room's heart sat a technician in a frayed hoodie, his face washed in the monitors' pallor. A headset hung askew, one ear exposed to the cacophony of overlapping feeds. His fingers danced across a holographic interface, pausing only when a single screen flared crimson. The alleyway feed pulsed rhythmically, its red light staining his glasses as he leaned closer. A jagged waveform spiked across the monitor —a biometric signature spiraling into the danger zone.

"Newborn," the technician muttered to no one. "Class 1. Sewer fusion. Low threat."

The suited man stepped into the screen's bloody glow. "Status?"

"Tried reaching Cell 7 and 9." The technician didn't turn, his voice monotone from years of cataloging horrors. "Comms down. Overwatch thinks it's solar interference. You're the only asset clear."

The man's jaw tightened —a microscopic crack in his composure. "I'll handle it."

"Solo?" The technician finally glanced back, his gaze lingering on the man's left hand —the faint tremor there, poorly concealed. "Protocol recommends—"

"It's a Class 1." The man's finger pressed a hidden button on his tie. A nanotech swarm erupted from the fabric, liquid silver cascading over his body. It solidified into an armored exoskeleton —the Apex suit, basic enhanced abilities, all matte-black angles and neural interface nodes. The visor slid over his face, erasing the grief-stricken man who'd once screamed at Ren in the hospital saying that it should be him who died instead of Dr Scott.

The technician sighed, turning back to his screens. "Just… don't linger. Cleanse and go."

The man didn't answer. The suit's thruster array ignited with a subsonic growl, and he vanished into the facility's arterial tunnels.

The man stepped into the alley, now in his human form, boots crunching over loose gravel. The air smelled stale, like old rain and rust, and the neon signs buzzing overhead painted the walls in jagged streaks of pink and blue.

Nothing seemed out of place —no bloodstains, no shredded clothes, not even a footprint. But he knew better. Demons didn't leave traces unless they wanted to be found.

His gloved hand brushed the sleek black panel on his wrist, and a holographic scanner flickered to life, casting a pale green glow across his masked face.

The screen pulsed, revealing claw marks only visible through the lens —jagged, smoldering grooves in the brickwork. Demon Class-1, the system chirped. Hostile. Apex is advised to Proceed with caution.

He followed the trail deeper into the shadows, the scanner guiding him like a compass. At the alley's dead end, the air rippled —a distortion, like heat rising off asphalt. Then it lunged.

The demon erupted from nothingness —a nightmare of sewage water and rusted metal, its body dripping, jaws unhinging to reveal teeth made of shattered glass, eyes burning like coals.

The man ducked as a clawed hand swiped overhead, tearing through a fire escape like paper. Metal screeched, raining debris. He rolled sideways, tapping his tie to suit up, he fired a charged pulse from his gauntlet.

The blast seared a hole through the demon's shoulder, but it roared, unfazed, and charged again.

This time, the blow connected. The demon's fist slammed into his ribs, hurling him into a dumpster. The impact dented the Apex suit, and pain flared up his side. His visor flickered red —a warning. [SYSTEM DAMAGE: 20%]. Then, in the corner of the screen, a name blinked: OPERATIVE: ALEX REYES. He gritted his teeth. No time to dwell on it.

Alex sprang forward, activating twin blades from his forearm guards. The demon lashed out, but he sidestepped, slicing through its arm. Black ooze spurted from the wound, hissing as it ate into the concrete. The creature staggered —then split.

Two demons now, identical and snarling, circled him.

One lunged low, the other high. Alex twisted, barely avoiding the dual assault. A claw grazed where his head should be, cracking the visor. Alarms blared in his ears. [SHIELD INTEGRITY: 45%]. He backflipped onto a rooftop, buying seconds to recalibrate. The demons followed, tearing through bricks like dry leaves.

He needed to end this. Alex triggered his suit's overload —a risky move. Energy surged through his veins, lighting up his circuits. He dropped into the alley, fists crackling.

The first demon lunged; he grabbed its throat, slamming it into the ground. The pavement cratered.

The second pounced, but Alex spun, driving a blade into its chest. They dissolved into Muddy Waters, their shrieks echoing into silence.

Breathing hard, he tapped his wrist. A small orb detached, hovering above the wreckage. NEON DAWN PROTOCOL: REBUILDING INITIATED. The orb glowed, and the shattered buildings knit themselves back together —bricks stacking, cracks sealing, neon signs flickering to life as if nothing had happened.

The fight lasted almost daybreak.

Across the street, a homeless man gaped from a doorway, a woman froze mid-scream, her dog yapping wildly. Alex aimed his gauntlet. MEMORY WIPE: ENGAGED. A soft blue wave washed over them. Their eyes glazed, then cleared. The woman scratched her head, muttered about "bad sushi," and walked off. The dog trotted after her, tail wagging.

Alex transformed back into his human form, running a hand through sweat-damp hair as he vanished into the city's pulse, another ghost in the neon dawn.