Media Storm

Time: 7:00 AM, Alex's Brooklyn Apartment

The alarm clock's shrill cry pierced through Alex's first peaceful sleep in days, but something was wrong. Beneath the familiar electronic beeping, he could hear voices—lots of them, growing louder by the second. Alex rolled over, squinting at the morning light filtering through his cheap curtains, and felt his stomach drop.

The voices weren't coming from the street below. They were coming from directly outside his building.

He stumbled to the window and peered through a gap in the curtains, immediately jerking back as camera flashes exploded like miniature lightning strikes. The sidewalk in front of his apartment building looked like a disaster zone—news vans lined the street bumper to bumper, satellite dishes reaching toward the sky like metallic flowers seeking sunlight. Reporters clutched microphones and coffee cups with equal desperation, their perfectly styled hair and makeup incongruous with the early morning chaos.

"What the hell..." Alex whispered, his voice hoarse with sleep and mounting panic.

His phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand—seventeen missed calls and forty-three unread messages. With trembling fingers, he opened the first text from Maya: Get off social media. NOW. Don't look at the news. Call me.

But it was too late. Alex was already opening his browser, typing his own name into the search bar with the kind of morbid curiosity that made people slow down at car accidents.

The first result made his blood freeze: "MYSTERY F-RANK HERO REVEALED: Alex Chen of Brooklyn"

The article, published at 5:47 AM by @TruthSeeker2029, was a masterpiece of digital stalking. Photos of Alex entering the Silver Moon building. Surveillance footage of him leaving the Federal Building. Even a grainy shot of him sitting with Marcus at Joe's Coffee, their faces circled in red with arrows pointing to their "secret meeting."

After extensive investigation spanning the past three days following the Hudson River Gateway incident, this reporter can confirm that the mysterious F-rank awakener who single-handedly defeated a D-rank boss is Alex Chen, 24, of Brooklyn. Chen, who works as a freelance dungeon cameraman, was seen yesterday meeting with both Silver Moon Guild executives and federal agents, suggesting his abilities may be far greater than his official registration indicates.

Sources within the awakened community describe Chen as "unusually observant" and "technically skilled beyond his rank." One anonymous guild member stated: "Everyone in the business knows there are unregistered high-ranks operating under false classifications. Chen might be the first one we can prove."

Alex's hands shook as he scrolled through the comments section—hundreds of them, posted in the few hours since the article went live.

"Another fake F-rank. When will the DMB start doing real testing?"

"My cousin saw this guy at Central Park. Definitely not normal."

"Someone needs to investigate his family too. This stuff runs in bloodlines."

The last comment made Alex's stomach clench with terror. His family. The restaurant. His parents, who had no idea their son had become an overnight internet sensation for all the wrong reasons.

His phone rang—Mom calling. Alex stared at the screen, paralyzed by the impossibility of explaining any of this. After six rings, it went to voicemail. Immediately, it started ringing again—Dad this time.

Before he could decide whether to answer, someone began pounding on his door with the persistence of a jackhammer.

"Mr. Chen! Channel 7 News! We'd love to get your side of the story!"

More voices joined in from the hallway—a cacophony of reporters who had somehow gotten past the building's security.

"Alex Chen! Daily Herald! Just five minutes of your time!"

"Mr. Chen! We understand you've been meeting with federal agents. Any comment on national security implications?"

Alex's phone buzzed with a call from his landlord, Mr. Kowalski. This time he answered, knowing it couldn't be good news.

"Alex! What the hell is going on? There are news trucks blocking my street! Tenants are complaining! Mrs. Martinez in 3B says there are people camping in the lobby!"

"Mr. Kowalski, I can explain—"

"No explanation needed! This is a quiet building! Quiet! Not a circus! You fix this problem or you find a new place to live!"

The line went dead. Alex stared at his phone, watching notification after notification pile up like digital snowflakes in a digital blizzard. Friend requests from strangers. Interview requests from news outlets he'd never heard of. Messages from awakener guilds offering everything from recruitment to "exclusive representation deals."

And underneath it all, a growing stream of increasingly invasive questions: Where did you train? Who taught you those techniques? Are you secretly a higher rank? What other abilities are you hiding?

Alex pulled on yesterday's clothes and grabbed his emergency bag—a habit he'd developed after Marcus had explained that "smart awakeners always have an exit strategy." His hands moved automatically, stuffing essentials into the backpack while his mind reeled with the implications of his exposure.

The Combat Data Archive flickered to life in his peripheral vision:

[WARNING: Identity Compromise Detected] [Stealth Protocols Recommended] [Suggestion: Relocate to secure position immediately]

"Now you tell me," Alex muttered, shouldering his bag and moving to the window that faced the building's fire escape.

His phone rang again—Amy this time. He answered while checking the alley below for more reporters.

"Alex, what the hell is happening? Mom just called me crying because she saw you on the morning news. She thinks you're some kind of secret government agent or something."

"Amy, I can't explain right now, but I need you to keep Mom and Dad calm, okay? Tell them I'm fine, tell them it's all a misunderstanding—"

"A misunderstanding? Alex, there are reporters calling the restaurant. They're asking questions about your childhood, about whether you showed signs of 'enhanced abilities' growing up. One of them wanted to know if you were adopted!"

The words hit Alex like a physical blow. He'd chosen independence to protect his family, and instead he'd painted a target on their backs.

"Listen to me very carefully," Alex said, climbing onto the fire escape as quietly as possible. "Don't talk to any reporters. Don't confirm anything about me. If they won't leave you alone, call Marcus Wong—I'll text you his number. He'll know what to do."

"Marcus Wong? Alex, you're scaring me. Are you in some kind of trouble?"

The sound of more vehicles arriving on the street below answered that question. Through the gaps in the fire escape, Alex could see a convoy of black SUVs pulling up—definitely not more news crews. The vehicles had government plates.

"I have to go, Amy. Take care of Mom and Dad. I'll call you when I can."

"Alex, wait—"

He hung up and turned off his phone, watching through the metal grating as figures in dark suits began coordinating with the news crews. Professional conversations, official badges being flashed. Whatever was happening, it was escalating beyond media attention into something much more serious.

Alex made his way down the fire escape as quietly as possible, each step sending small vibrations through the old metal that seemed to echo like gunshots in the morning air. On the second floor, Mrs. Chen from 2A peered through her window curtains, her eyes widening when she saw him.

She knew who he was now. Everyone would know.

When he reached the alley, Alex pulled up his hood and walked quickly toward the subway entrance three blocks away, keeping his head down and staying close to building walls. Behind him, the media circus continued its frenzied dance around his empty apartment building.

His pocket contained David Kim's business card and exactly $127 in cash. His bank account would be frozen soon if federal agents were involved. His apartment was compromised. His family was under scrutiny.

Independence, he reflected bitterly as he descended into the subway tunnels, was turning out to be a lot more expensive than he'd anticipated.

But as the train pulled into the station and Alex stepped aboard with the anonymous crowd of morning commuters, he felt something unexpected beneath the fear and regret—a spark of determination. @TruthSeeker2029 had declared war on his privacy, Silver Moon had withdrawn their protection, and the federal government was apparently taking a more active interest in his affairs.

Fine. If they wanted to see what an independent awakener could do, he'd show them.

The Combat Data Archive pulsed softly in his vision: [Stealth Mode: Active]

Alex smiled grimly as the train pulled away from his old life and toward whatever came next. The morning's crisis had made one thing crystal clear—there was no going back to being just a cameraman. The only way forward was to become someone strong enough to protect the people he loved, no matter who tried to stop him.

Even if he had to do it completely alone.