Ch-2 "Come Get Me"

After leaving the school and his friend behind, Vayunesh Athisay walked home in silence. The world around him buzzed with chaos and luxury — citizens rushing, drones flying, giant LED banners selling synthetic hope — but none of it touched him.

Home wasn't grand, but it was quiet. He stepped into his apartment, tossed his bag aside, and collapsed onto the sofa. Without thinking, he grabbed the remote, pulled a blanket over himself, and switched on the television, letting the dim glow flicker against his face.

He flipped to the news channel, and the anchor's voice crackled to life.

"We interrupt your regular programming with breaking news.

In a shocking turn of events, criminals, civilians, and even political figures are being mysteriously captured. Authorities claim they have no trace, no digital footprint, and—most importantly—no idea where these individuals are being taken.

The disappearances appear to have no pattern—only that they involve people from… all corners of society."

The screen flashed images of blurred surveillance footage: someone vanishing in a subway, a high-ranking official dragged from his limo, a thief mid-heist simply disappearing into the shadows.

Half-asleep, Vayunesh smirked.

"Oh," he whispered, as if he had been waiting for this.

The soft hum of the television faded into static as sleep overtook him.

One hour later.

His eyes snapped open.

The city outside had changed. The neon lights had dimmed, replaced by flickering streetlamps and eerie silence. Vayunesh stood up, brushed off his coat, and walked into the night — not aimlessly, but toward a destination only he seemed to understand.

He arrived at a place few dared to tread — a narrow, decaying alley in Sector 9, known simply as The Red Vein. The street had a reputation: murders, muggings, gang wars — all things that turned ordinary civilians away.

But Vayunesh?

He walked straight in.

"It's obvious," he muttered. "If they're taking people… they'll start here. No doubt about it."

As if summoned by his presence, a group of four thugs emerged from the shadows. Scarred, blood-stained, and grinning with jagged teeth, they surrounded him with knives drawn.

"Hey, rich boy," one sneered. "Lost your way?"

Vayunesh didn't flinch. "I have no business with you. Leave."

They didn't.

The nearest thug lunged.

Big mistake.

In a blur, Vayunesh caught his arm mid-swing. His grip tightened—bone cracked, veins popped, and blood began to pour from the man's wrist like a burst pipe.

The thug screamed in agony.

With cold precision, Vayunesh wrenched the knife from the man's failing grip and turned to the next one—eyes empty, smile calm.

Then, with a single swift motion, he slit the second man's throat.

The remaining two criminals panicked and ran, dropping their weapons as they vanished into the fog of the alley.

Vayunesh didn't chase them.

Instead, he wiped the blade clean on the coat of the fallen thug and walked to an old bench tucked beneath a broken streetlight. He sat, casually, almost like he was waiting for a bus.

But it wasn't transportation he was waiting for.

"I know you're watching," he said softly, eyes fixed on the shadows."You've been capturing the trash of society — and now you've seen me.

So what are you waiting for…?

Come get me."