The old door creaked on rusted hinges. A thin ray of daylight spilled into the dim interior, casting a sharp line across the far wall. Lance Reyes knew this barn like the back of his hand: the dusty workbench in the corner, the stack of old tires by the broken window, the manure smell that never quite left the wood.

He also knew when something was wrong.

A pile of tools and farm equipment lay scattered across the floor, pushed aside as though someone had tried to find a place to hide. She was here. The tang of ozone clung to the air, and that spoke louder than footprints ever could.

A sudden static prickled at his spine, sharp enough to make him stiffen. The hair stood up along his arms. Whoever she was, she stood directly behind him, one finger resting against the small of his back.

He cursed himself silently. Slowing down in his old age.

"If you call for help," she hissed, "I'll warp your head from your shoulders."

Her voice was smooth-confident-but threaded with a tremor.

"I've been around long enough to know a bluff when I hear one," Lance said. He lifted his hands where she could see them. "After that fall? Those injuries? You're close to burning out."

"Try me." She pressed her fingernail deeper into his back. "I'm an Aberrant, old man-I'll heal up in no time."

"I'm not trying to con you," he replied, tone steady. "You came in, shoved everything aside, and went straight for a hiding place. If you were strong enough for round two, you'd be out there already-and I doubt you have another explosive escape plan."

He slowly began to turn.

"Hey!" the woman snapped. Her confident tone seemed to waver. "What do you think you're doing? You turn when I tell you to!"

He finished his turn anyway, raising his hands.

"All I want is to look at the person I'm speaking to. Is that really too much to ask?"

Standing in front of Lance was a dark-skinned woman who was easily a decade or three younger. She was bloodied, favouring one leg, her blue jeans and dark leather jacket ripped threadbare. A shock of her black hair was shaved at the sides, fashioned into a pixie cut. She fixed Lance with a look of defiance, her slate grey eyes boring through him.

She didn't look dangerous-she looked cornered, and Lance recognized the look well.

His captor was a second‑generation Aberrant-born with her powers, not infected. No implants, no tech, just raw power coursing through a body that wasn't built for it.

"My name is Lance Reyes," he said evenly. "I'm not here to hurt you, and I'm not your hostage. I don't know what happened up there, but I've got medical supplies-"

"Shut up," she snarled, jabbing him in the chest with her good hand. "You think you can fool me? Get on my good side?"

His pulse hammered beneath her finger. If he didn't talk her down, and fast, things would start coming apart.

"No," he pressured, "I'm serious. Check the bottom drawer of the workbench. If you'd like, I could-"

"No!" she barked, then paused, voice softening slightly. "No." She edged sideways toward the bench, finger still trembling in his direction. "Stay right there, old man."

Lance gave the wounded woman a casual shrug, and a moment later the bottom drawer of the workbench slid open with a metallic hiss.

"No way," the woman breathed. For the first time since Lance had entered the barn, she lowered her left arm to retrieve a white plastic case. As she stood again, case in hand, suspicion narrowed her eyes. "But why would you-"

"Citizen!" a voice boomed. The sound shook dust loose from the rafters. "Mister Reyes, may I please have a word?"

The woman instantly paled, raising her good arm toward the sky.

"No, no," she whispered. "Not like this. I can't."

"Lance Reyes!" the voice called again. "Is the registered owner of this property present?"

Lance recognized that voice-in this day and age, everyone did. His gaze darted toward the injured Aberrant as the sunlight outside the barn shifted into a harsh golden glow.

"The tarp in the back," he hissed. "Get behind it. The heat from the manure should scramble his thermal scans."

She didn't argue. Medical kit in hand, the Aberrant woman disappeared deeper into the barn. As she did, Lance stepped out into the open air.

The man floating before him hovered a meter above the ground, wreathed in radiant gold. At his core he was still human-bright green eyes, a messy shock of black hair-but everything else had been subsumed by gleaming metal. His physique was engineered, not grown; powerful plates, integrated weapon systems, and repulsion projectors that kept him weightless. A shimmering gold cape fluttered dramatically behind him.

"Hello," Lance called, squinting into the glare. "How can I help you, Machina?"

Machina descended gently, like an archangel lowering itself to earth. Even standing in the dirt, he towered over Lance.

"My apologies for the interruption, Mister Reyes," he announced with polished authority, "but a dangerous Aberrant has been spotted in this area."

"Yeah," Lance replied, jerking his thumb toward the trail of fresh craters. "I noticed."

Machina arched one eyebrow, but pushed ahead anyway.

"The Aberrant in question is a mid‑tier threat level and a known member of the Cult of Leviathan."

Now Lance lifted an eyebrow of his own.

"Is that so?" he said dryly. "And here I thought those misguided young folks kept to the inner city. Any particular reason you're chasing one all the way out into the open prairies?"

"This abhorrent Aberrant has stolen something of tremendous importance to Enhanced Oversight Network," Machina explained, "recovering it is a top priority from EON's director herself."

"Are you trying to ask if I've seen this dangerous Ab?" Lance prodded.

"Uh... yeah," Machina concluded. He twitched, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry. The words are right there on my suit's visor and sometimes I get carried away, so-"

"No," Lance interrupted. "Haven't seen her at all. By the time I got here, the crater was empty. My best guess? She made a break back to the city."

Machina's sculpted features shifted into a frown. "Darn," he muttered. "But I could have sworn my scans-"

His eyes flickered blue as his gaze swept across the property. A moment later they faded back to gold, and he sighed again.

"Man, Director Cross is gonna kill me." Then, as if remembering the performance required of him, Machina straightened and snapped off a crisp salute. "I appreciate your cooperation, citizen! Should the Aberrant reappear, notify the authorities at once and I will return! Your safety is our highest priority, and the Cult of Leviathan is as dangerous as the Aberrant they idolize!"

"Yeah," Lance replied. He leaned forward, placing a hand on his hip. "Okay, great. But there's one more thing-you guys totalled my tractor."

Machina froze, shifting his ludicrous mass awkwardly from one reinforced foot to the other.

"Uh, I think EON has jurisdiction on that," he stammered. "Call their help line-tell them Machina sent you!"

He vaulted into the sky, unleashing a thunderous sonic boom as he shot back toward Horizon City.

Lance sighed aloud. Yes, of course-as if some worker would believe his insurance claim was personally endorsed by the word of Machina himself.

He trudged back toward the barn, shoulders heavy with defeat. Without his tractor, there was no chance of finishing the harvest in time. Even with a modest financial buffer, the repairs would take weeks.

As Lance stepped inside the barn, the injured woman emerged from behind the manure pile. Her right shoulder was splinted, and strips of bandages peeked out beneath her torn jacket and shirt. She looked different now-not desperate, but bewildered.

"You did a poor job with that shoulder," Lance remarked, voice gruff. "I'll fix it if you allow me."

"Why?" she demanded. "Why... any of this? Why help me, especially after what happened outside? And you lied to an Enhanced... to Machina himself! That's jail‑without‑parole kind of illegal!"

"Machina's just a kid," Lance replied. "I wouldn't have dared when it was still Cross in that suit, but her apprentice, David Winters? He's an EON rookie." He shrugged. "High Enhanced, sure, but still human on the inside. He believed me because he wanted to."

"Well, dang," the woman muttered. She lowered herself carefully onto a discarded tire, teeth clenched against the pain. "But that still doesn't answer my first question."

"What was your name again?" Lance asked. "I gave you mine. Fair's fair."

She glared at him a moment longer before cracking.

"Kaylene Adeyemi," she stated. "But most call me Astra, on account of the, well..." she wiggled her fingers, brilliant silver starlight dancing between them. "You get the picture."

"Never been much a fan of codenames," Lance responded. "But I'm happy to meet you, Kaylene."

Kaylene frowned, but it was more confusion than anger now. "Anyone ever say you're strange, old man?"

"Well, Kaylene," Lance replied, sidestepping the question, "To answer your earlier remark, I helped you because you needed it. I knew you weren't going to kill me back there, even if you were at full strength."

"So instead, you lied to a High Enhanced and put a target on your back," Kaylene snapped. "What kind of logic is that? Do you even know what I stole from them?"

"I don't," Lance admitted. "But I'd like to. Avoid smashing any more of my equipment, and in return you can hide out with me until you fully recover. Understood?"

Kaylene stared at him, weighing every option. Even injured, he knew she could overpower him and disappear into the fields before he took three steps.

But the scent of ozone was gone. Her strength was spent. Finally, she nodded.

"You've got yourself a deal, old man," she smirked. She pulled herself to her feet. "But don't say I didn't warn you-I might be more trouble than I'm worth."

As the pair stepped out of the barn, Lance Reyes couldn't help but feel optimistic. So much had changed in such a short time-and now, something new was beginning, right under his nose.

There had been far too many endings in his life lately.

"To be honest," he smiled, "I think I'm okay with a little trouble."