Among the Ashes

Cole was walking.

With slow, deliberate steps. Determined to reach the far end of the city, trying to understand the soul of the streets. His eyes were fixed ahead, but his mind was trapped elsewhere Lena.

He remembered her metal leg, the battles they fought together, the cold but passionate look in her eyes. And now what he had heard about her... It pressed on his heart like a quiet weight.

"If it's really her... I just hope they only arrested her. I hope she's still alive."

He didn't say it out loud. But inside him, the thought was louder than the city's chaos.

Just then, as he was about to cross the street—

A sound.

A grunt.

A rage.

An engine.

And then:

Impact.

A car had targeted him. One of the street thugs suddenly accelerated. Before Cole could understand, he was airborne. He hit the asphalt. Dragged across the ground. His face met the stone. His arms tried to shield him. But his body... surrendered.

The drivers had already fled, Leaving behind their laughter and the stink of a rotten exhaust. The crowd on the street acted as if nothing had happened.

Some turned their heads. Some changed their path to avoid eye contact. Others simply stepped over him.

Humanity... bowed right before his eyes. But offered no help.

Cole tried to rise. He grabbed the curb with one hand. His knee trembled. His vision blurred. He drew a breath But before a second could come, he collapsed into darkness.

The first sound in that darkness... was like water dripping from an attic ceiling. Cold. Rhythmic. Echoing in a void.

When he opened his eyes, the room was dim. A dirty blanket's warmth clung to his skin. His arms... were tied. But not tightly. For safety. Not out of fear not to restrain him, but to hold him.

Two silhouettes stood nearby.

Aged faces. Tired eyes. But inside them... a silence that knew pain.

Two homeless men. The most invisible of the world. And now they were Cole's only saviors.

He stared at the cracked ceiling. Dust drifted in the air, as if time itself had fallen and was trying to rise again. His hands were still bound. But it wasn't captivity. It was caution. A precaution.

The figures were silent. Then one spoke at last. His voice was rough but sincere Like a breeze slipping through a crack in the wall:

"The reason we tied you up... was because we didn't know who you were."

"We're not like the others in this city. Maybe that's why we ended up this way. But never mind that... the real question is: Who are you?"

The question lingered in the air. As if they were holding a mirror to Cole's mind. Did he truly know who he was? Was he defined by the mission or his past?

He turned his head slightly. A pale light struck the side of his face. His eyes were heavy but focused.

"I don't remember everything..."

"I was walking. Then... blank."

"I think... a car hit me."

The homeless man nodded. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, hands resting on his knees, Like someone who had seen this kind of life too many times:

"Your body was on the ground. There was blood beside your head. Your breathing was shallow. We didn't even dare get close at first... We thought maybe someone sent you."

Cole took a deep breath. The map of the mission still foggy in his mind. But his heart remained resolute. He slightly moved his hands.

"Can you untie me?"

"I won't hurt you. I promise. There's nothing to fear."

The two exchanged a brief glance. A silent decision from their past. Then, they began untying the ropes. Cole stood not just as a soldier, but as a man.

He brushed off the dust from his clothes. But his face was calm. His voice, heavy but clear:

"My goal was to reach the other side of the city."

"Maybe it's not too late."

"If I can get there… I'll come back. And I'll repay your kindness with more than just words."

A quiet fell over the room. But it wasn't a silence of doubt. It was the kind born of hope. The kind you don't want to end too soon.

Before leaving, Cole spoke with the homeless men for a long time. They knew far more than most. Because the city had ignored them the most. And the ignored… see everything.

There was no map. But their directions ran like veins under concrete. Where to pass, Which alleys to avoid, Which buildings held more ghosts than truth.

Their tone wasn't fearful it was familiar. As if the darkness of the city had soaked into their very bones.

As Cole left, he took a long breath and thought:

"So there are still good people left in this city." "I mean... I hope so."

He stepped into the street. The chill of night didn't bite him It was the dead hour of the day. A darkness that wasn't quite morning yet.

His steps were steady. His path was set.

But after a few hours, reality hit:

Walking... wouldn't be fast enough.

If the homeless men were right, even the shortest path would take two days on foot. And this world... buried the slow.

Lena's image flashed again in his mind. Her metal leg. The tattoo on her back. A memory that struck like lightning in the dark.

"Two days is too long."

He knew. In this city, information lost its heat fast. A rumor could turn into something else in mere hours.

Slowness... couldn't outrun death.

He made a decision. Simple on the surface. But one that scraped the conscience. And in this world, people who followed their conscience usually shared one fate:

Being too late.

Cole stopped. Looked around.

He stepped into a side alley. A car was parked. No one inside. No blinking lights.

He took a deep breath. And thought:

"This... isn't theft." "This is transition. A race against time."

Sometimes, there's no line between what's right and what's necessary. Only choices. And consequences.

Cole reached into his jacket. Pulled out a rusty metal rod given by the homeless men. Slipped it into the door crack. One, two and click.

Door opened. He scanned the panels below the steering wheel. Time was shrinking. Because this city... didn't wait.

Engine roared to life. He got in. In the pale dashboard light, only one thing glimmered on his face: Determination.

As he stepped on the gas, the city seemed to stop breathing again just for him.

The engine growled as Cole accelerated. The needle neared its end. The city blurred past him like a fading film reel. Every street, every shadow, every neon light All converging into a single tunnel of motion.

He was racing time. And time was learning to sprint.

But then without warning A woman leapt in front of the car. Torn clothes, vacant eyes probably high and lost. A scream. A shape. A brake.

But it was too late.

Cole turned the wheel on reflex. Tires shrieked. But the city... didn't forgive mistakes.

The car slid. Spun out of control. A swerve, a stumble then:

Impact.

Bricks shattered. A metal gate collapsed. Glass rained like crystal rain.

The vehicle crashed through a building. Once walls now rubble. And Cole... without wasting a breath, jumped out.

Smoke billowed behind him. But his eyes were fixed forward.

He scanned the area. The building... wasn't quiet. Metal scraping. Footsteps below.

Then it hit him:

"Never enter that building." "The city's worst dwell here. Whatever you've seen, whatever you've heard forget it."

Too late.

Only one option remained:

Survive.

Cole dropped low. Took cover behind the wrecked car. Steadied his breath. Shadows moved through the smoke. But Cole made no sound. Only his eyes spoke now.

Years of military training kicked in. Every move measured. His body an echo against the smoke. There, but unseen. Close, but unreachable.

He waited. For one opening. To study his enemies before stepping forward.

Because in this city, survival... wasn't just about strength. It was about moving unseen.

He crouched. Footsteps echoed to his left. The smoke, a curtain dancing between sky and ground. For him it was a stage. And he, its quietest performer.

The steps neared. A silhouette emerged. Walking with blind confidence.

Cole took a breath. Not fast. Not deep. Just enough.

Then He reached out. Grabbed the man's throat. Pulled him in. A gasp. Then: Silence.

The thug collapsed. Cole seized his weapon. Shifted position silently.

Still, no alarm from the smoke.

One step to the right. Merged with the shadow.

A second figure. Looking for the first. But Cole... was already in place.

A strike. Rifle butt to the skull. A groan. But smoke swallowed the sound.

Second one down. Unmoving.

Cole gripped the gun. Eyes narrowed. Steps calm but carrying a storm.

And then he saw them.

Five men.

All armored. Guns drawn. Close, but gaps between them. Eyes scanning beyond the smoke still unaware.

Cole paused. Dropped to one knee. Controlled his breath.

Options. His mind worked like a soldier:

– Stay silent. Let them scatter. – Or strike. Fast. Clear the path.

But one of them reached for the radio:

"There was a crash. No response from two of our men."

Critical moment. If they radioed backup, more would come.

His thoughts echoed:

"Time won't wait. You either outrun it... or get buried beneath it."

Cole chose: Action.

He raised the weapon. Took aim. First target: the one on the edge.

Then: Bang!

One down.

A sprint. Reposition. Use the smoke. Dash to the second.

Gunfire. A shout. But Cole moved with the shadows.

The third turned too late.

A strike. A fall.

Only two remained. But even they didn't know where to look.

Cole shifted. Glided through the dark like a ghost.

Then Silence.

All five neutralized. Radios dead. Footsteps gone.

Cole exhaled. But there was no triumph on his face.

Because this wasn't a victory It was the first echo... ...of a darkness that had only begun to awaken inside that building.