Chapter 1
Rain slid across the rooftops in thin silver sheets, turning every surface slick and reflective. The city below was a smear of neon and shadow, the kind of night where even the streetlights seemed too tired to shine properly. Elliot crouched on the edge of the rooftop, hood pulled low, breath fogging in the cold air. His fingers tapped anxiously against the concrete as he watched the alley across the street. Brilliant Ben stood behind him, shivering loudly enough that Elliot kept glancing back in irritation.
“Do you have to breathe like that?” Elliot whispered.
Ben sniffed, rubbing his arms. “It’s freezing. My mask is soaked. My socks are soaked. My soul is soaked.”
“Just… be quiet,” Elliot muttered.
They had been staking out the warehouse for nearly an hour, waiting for the man rumoured to be behind a string of illegal weapons deals. A man known only in whispers, someone the police couldn’t touch and the criminals feared. Tonight, they were finally going to see him.
A black car rolled into the alley, headlights slicing through the rain. Elliot tensed. Ben leaned forward too far and slipped, catching himself on a vent with a loud metallic clang. Elliot shot him a look that could have melted steel.
“Sorry,” Ben mouthed.
The car door opened. A tall man in a long coat stepped out, flanked by two guards. Even from a distance, Elliot could feel the weight of his presence. The man moved with the confidence of someone who owned the night.
“That’s him,” Elliot whispered. “That has to be him.”
Ben nodded, eyes wide behind his goggles. “He looks… important. Like the kind of guy who has a favourite torture method.”
“Don’t say things like that.”
They watched as the man approached a rusted metal door at the back of the warehouse. One of the guards tapped a code into a keypad, and the door slid open, revealing a staircase descending underground.
“A bunker,” Elliot murmured. “Of course he has a bunker.”
The man and his guards disappeared inside. Elliot stood, pulling his gloves tighter. “We follow.”
Ben hesitated. “Into the creepy underground murder basement?”
“Yes.”
“Cool. Cool cool cool.”
They climbed down the fire escape, boots slipping on the wet metal. Ben nearly fell twice, grabbing Elliot’s shoulder each time. Elliot didn’t yell at him, but only because he was too focused on the bunker entrance. Two guards now stood outside, rifles slung across their chests, scanning the alley.
Elliot exhaled slowly. “Stay behind me.”
He closed his eyes. The world around him stretched, colours smearing, sounds bending. Time froze like a photograph. Rain hung in the air as glittering droplets. The guards stood motionless, mid‑breath.
Elliot moved quickly, grabbing each guard by the collar and dragging them across the alley. Ben followed, stepping carefully around suspended raindrops like they were landmines. They hauled the guards into a nearby park, tying them to a tree with rope Ben had insisted on bringing “just in case.” Elliot didn’t ask why he had rope. He didn’t want to know.
When they returned to the bunker entrance, Elliot let time snap back into motion. The rain resumed its fall. The alley was silent.
They slipped inside.
The bunker was dimly lit, humming with generators and the low murmur of voices deeper within. Elliot moved like a shadow. Ben moved like someone trying very hard to be a shadow but failing at the concept. They reached a corner overlooking a large room filled with crates, maps, and a long metal table.
At the table sat the crime boss.
He removed his coat, revealing a sharp suit and a face carved with lines of authority. His voice was smooth, accented, dangerous.
“Signore Bellandi,” the client said, shaking his hand.
Elliot’s eyes widened. They finally had a name.
Bellandi leaned back in his chair. “The shipment arrives in three days. High‑grade weapons. Enough to arm a small army.”
“And the buyer?” the client asked.
Bellandi smiled thinly. “He prefers to remain unnamed. But you may call him… the Grandmaster.”
Elliot felt a chill crawl up his spine. Ben mouthed the word silently, eyes huge behind his goggles.
Bellandi continued, “He pays well. Very well. And he wants chaos. We will give it to him.”
Ben shifted his weight, trying to get a better look. His foot slipped on a puddle of water dripping from his soaked mask. The sound was small — a soft scuff — but in the silence of the bunker, it echoed like a gunshot.
Bellandi’s head snapped up.
Elliot grabbed Ben’s arm, pulling him back behind the crates. Footsteps approached. Bellandi’s voice was low and sharp. “Someone is here.”
Elliot’s heart hammered. He could feel time resisting him, like pushing against a wall. He didn’t have much strength left. He hadn’t frozen time this much in months. But if Bellandi found them, they were dead.
He closed his eyes.
The world cracked.
Time froze — violently, painfully — and Elliot felt his knees buckle. Ben caught him, eyes wide with fear. Together, they stumbled through the frozen bunker, past Bellandi’s outstretched hand, past the guards, past the crates of weapons. Elliot’s breath came in ragged gasps as he forced himself to keep moving.
They reached the alley. Elliot collapsed against the wall, letting time slam back into motion. A distant shout echoed from inside the bunker.
Ben looked at him, soaked, shaking, terrified. “We… we didn’t stop anything.”
Elliot wiped rain from his eyes. “No.”
“But we know something.”
Elliot nodded, staring into the dark city. “We know enough to start a war.”
