The Man in the Black Car

The night was loud with chaos.

A sleek black car cut through the rain-soaked streets like a shadow, tires screeching as it drifted dangerously through a red light. Inside, the driver's knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. Sweat dripped down his forehead, mixing with the rain on the cracked windshield.

Behind him, two black SUVs followed relentlessly. Their headlights flickered through the storm, illuminating the silhouette of the car they hunted. Muzzles of automatic rifles flashed through open windows short bursts of gunfire cracked into the night, peppering the black car's rear like angry wasps.

"Come on… hold together," the man whispered, his voice filled with desperation.

The black car veered left, then jerked sharply right, cutting through an alley. The tires hydroplaned for a moment before regaining grip. One of the bullets had already shredded the rear tire, and the vehicle swerved dangerously, metal scraping against a dumpster as sparks flew.

Still, he didn't stop.

He couldn't.

For a brief moment, silence returned.

The SUVs were no longer in sight. The man William Carter exhaled with shaky relief. He checked his rearview mirror again, but there were no headlights behind him. Rain hammered the windshield as if nature itself was in pursuit now. He turned onto a quiet industrial road and let the car roll to a slow crawl.

"I lost them…"

But just as he turned to grab something from the passenger seat, the car jolted. The shredded tire gave out completely. The black car spun, out of control, slamming into a concrete divider with a sickening crash.

Steam hissed from the engine. A flicker of flame licked at the hood.

A few blocks away, Harry pulled up the hood of his jacket, walking alone under the downpour. His shoes splashed through shallow puddles, headphones in, but the music wasn't enough to drown out the emptiness he felt inside.

The world never stopped raining on him even when he was dry.

Then, a boom. The unmistakable sound of metal colliding. He looked up just in time to see smoke rising from the road ahead. A car had crashed. Flames were building.

Harry paused. His first instinct? Walk away. Mind his business. He'd seen too much drama lately to care about someone else's.

But then he heard it.

"Help…"

A voice. Weak. Drenched in pain.

It cut through Harry's indifference like a blade.

He turned on instinct and ran feet pounding the wet asphalt as he sprinted toward the wreck. He didn't care who it was. No one deserved to burn alive.

Harry reached the car and saw the driver barely conscious, slumped forward, blood trailing from his forehead.

"I've got you," Harry muttered, yanking at the warped door. His enhanced strength made it easier than it should've been. He tore the door open and reached in, grabbing the man by the jacket and pulling him out just as flames crept closer.

The man groaned, eyes fluttering open. His hand reached toward Harry's neck.

Harry flinched. "Hey, easy! I'm helping you..."

But the man's hand moved too fast. With his last ounce of strength, he jabbed a small metallic injector into Harry's neck.

A sharp hiss.

The liquid burned like acid.

"What the hell ?!" Harry yelled, backing away, stumbling.

The man William Carter fell limp. He was dead before he hit the ground.

The wrecked car behind them burst into full flame.

Harry, still dizzy from the injection, stumbled away into the darkness, his heartbeat racing, mind spinning.

Five minutes later...

Two black SUVs pulled up near the flaming wreckage. The storm hadn't stopped, but it wasn't enough to kill the fire.

Doors swung open, and six men in sleek black-and-white suits emerged faces stern, emotionless, trained.

They moved in with practiced efficiency. One scanned the perimeter. Another aimed a handheld device at the scene. Two of them approached the body.

"He's gone," one of them said coldly. "Dr. William Carter. Confirmed."

Their leader stepped forward a tall man with silver hair and eyes that looked carved from ice. Luther.

He looked over the burning wreck, the body, and then his eyes landed on something near the passenger seat.

An empty injector.

"Did he use it on himself?" one of the agents asked.

Luther didn't respond immediately. He knelt beside the body, checked the pulse one last time, then stood up, pulling out a sleek satellite phone.

He pressed one number.

After a few seconds, a voice answered on the other end. Cold. Calm. Commanding.

"Report," said the voice.

"It's Luther," he said. "Target confirmed dead. William Carter. The injection is missing we believe he used it on himself before dying."

There was silence on the line. Then the voice replied:

"Maybe he didn't use it on himself..."

Luther frowned. "Sir?"

"Maybe someone else was there. Someone who took the injection. Find them. Immediately."

The call ended.

Luther pocketed the phone and stared into the fire, a storm raging behind his eyes.

Meanwhile, Harry ran through alley after alley, heart still racing.

The night after the tournament had ended, Harry had barely slept.

His body ached from every punch and kick he had taken in the ring, but the adrenaline of victory still pulsed in his blood like fire. His college had cheered for him like he was a champion, a warrior. For the first time in his life, people saw him as something other than a loser. The money he'd won was safely tucked in his backpack, and he had a plan tell his mom everything, treat her to dinner, and maybe… just maybe, start dreaming bigger.

But he never got to tell her.

The next morning arrived with a dull grey sky and a chill in the air. Harry rubbed his eyes and sat up from the bed. His room was still messy with the clothes from last night, the champion's medal still hanging from the chair. He checked his phone first still no calls or texts from his mother. She hadn't come home during the night. He told himself it was nothing. Probably another night shift, he thought, trying to push down the small spike of anxiety in his chest.

He dialed her number.

It rang… and rang… but no answer.

A moment later, his phone buzzed in his hand with an incoming call from an unknown number.

Harry answered immediately. "Hello?"

A deep voice replied, "Is this Harry?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"I'm calling from City General Hospital. Your mother, Emily Watson, was admitted early this morning. She collapsed during her shift. You need to come as soon as possible."

Harry froze.

His heart slammed against his ribs like a hammer. His mouth went dry. "W-What? What happened to her? Is she okay?"

"She was found unconscious by the reception desk. She's stable now, but further tests are ongoing. The doctors will brief you when you arrive."

The line went dead.

Harry didn't waste a second. He threw on the first hoodie he could find, shoved the envelope of tournament prize money into his backpack, and sprinted out of the house.

The hospital loomed over him like a concrete monster as he ran through the entrance, breathless and trembling. The white lights inside felt too bright, too sterile. He approached the nurse's desk and gasped out, "My mom Emily Watson. I got a call."

The nurse nodded and pointed. "Room 207. Second floor."

Harry took the stairs two at a time.

He stopped at the doorway, staring inside. His mother lay on the hospital bed, hooked up to beeping machines. Her face was pale, eyes closed. A heart monitor displayed her vitals in a steady rhythm, but it was the oxygen mask on her face that made Harry's stomach turn.

A doctor standing nearby turned and noticed him. "You must be her son."

Harry nodded silently, stepping inside.

"She's stable for now," the doctor began gently. "But there's something we need to discuss."

Harry swallowed. "Tell me the truth."

The doctor hesitated, then said it plainly: "Your mother has a brain tumor. We discovered it during the scans. It's grown dangerously close to an artery. We need to operate as soon as possible preferably today."

The words hit Harry like a fist to the chest. He stumbled slightly, gripping the bed rail to steady himself. "I-Is it serious?"

"It's not beyond help," the doctor assured him. "But we don't want to delay. The longer we wait, the higher the risk."

Harry stared at his mother's sleeping form, his mind racing. There was no time for panic now. He had to act.

"What do I need to do?"

The doctor handed him a clipboard. "We'll need you to fill out the forms for consent, and payment must be processed before we begin."

Harry didn't even blink.

He pulled off his backpack and opened the zipper. The crisp envelope containing the cash from the college tournament and the brutal street fights before that his hard-earned blood money was still there. Without a second thought, he handed it over.

"I have enough. Just make sure she lives."

The doctor nodded, impressed by the boy's resolve. "We'll begin the procedure this evening. She's in good hands."

As the medical staff prepared for the operation, Harry sat down outside the surgical room, his hands clasped tightly together in prayer. He didn't believe in God much. Not after all the times he had begged for help and received silence. But today he needed someone. Anyone. Because if he lost his mother now, nothing else would matter.

Elsewhere, Inside HumanOX Private Network Room

A sleek office buzzed with the low hum of computers and blinking screens. Rain pattered against tinted glass windows as Luther, the black-suited man who had chased William Carter, stood by a monitor, holding a phone to his ear.

"Yes," he said. "I have confirmation. William Carter did not inject the formula into himself."

He listened for a moment. The voice on the other side was cold, powerful the CEO of HumanOX, a shadowy man known only by his last name, Vexley.

Luther continued, "I recovered the body. The formula vial was found empty, and his biometric scan shows no injection markers. Someone else… he injected it into someone else."

There was a long pause. Then Vexley's voice came through, icy with rage.

"Then find out who. I don't care what it takes. If Carter passed the VisionOS prototype into civilian hands, it will compromise everything."

Luther's eyes narrowed. "I'll track the location where the injection was given. Carter must've done it during the crash. We're already sweeping the area. We'll find the host."

The call ended.

Luther turned to his team.

"I want every traffic camera, satellite feed, and witness report from that crash site analyzed. Someone walked away that night and they're carrying the most advanced bio-augmentation formula we've ever created."

He didn't know the name yet.

He didn't know the boy was just a student. Just a fighter.

Just Harry.

But he would find out.