The city was alive tonight.

Bright lights glared from street signs and flickered off rain-slick pavement. Somewhere far off, a car alarm screamed, and closer still, laughter spilled from a bar. Even in the underworld, the city never really stopped. For everyone else, it was just another Friday night. For me? This was my first job as Sivax.

I perched on the edge of a rooftop, my newly finished costume hugging me snugly, the cool night air brushing over the fabric. I adjusted the mask I'd stitched together—a simple design that covered the lower half of my face, leaving only my green hair and sharp eyes exposed. It wasn't much yet, but it was enough to get me started.

Below me, I could see the glowing words drifting lazily from conversations on the street. Most of it was meaningless chatter—someone complaining about their boss, another person gushing about their weekend plans. I ignored it all, zeroing in on the lone phrase that mattered:

"Package delivery. Midnight. Warehouse 17."

Boom.

I saw the faint ripple of noise from the hum of a nearby generator as I shifted my position, the faint vibrations translating in my mind as a low hum. It was strange, this part of my quirk, but useful. Big, noisy moments practically spelled themselves out for me like a loud, exaggerated comic book panel.

I checked my watch. 11:47 PM. Time to move.

The warehouse loomed in the distance, its steel frame casting long shadows over the shipping yard. I'd done my research, piecing together every scrap of information I could about the place. A shipment of illegal tech was scheduled to move tonight, part of some smuggling ring I'd been tracking for weeks.

Time to see if all this training paid off.

I dropped from the rooftop into an alley, landing silently, the impact absorbed by the reinforced soles of my boots. From there, it was a quick dash to the fence surrounding the yard. I reached up, gripping the chain-link, and hauled myself over with practiced ease.

Parkour training? Worth every yen.

Inside, I crouched low, slipping between stacks of shipping containers. The faint sounds of conversation hovered around me like mist. I focused on the words, letting them guide me.

"Keep it moving."
"Boss said no screw-ups this time."
"Don't touch that!"

I smiled under my mask. Perfect.

The guards were scattered, their attention divided. Typical thugs, undertrained and overconfident. I crept closer, sticking to the shadows, until I found the source of the commotion—a group of men loading crates into an unmarked truck.

"Fragile tech. Handle it carefully," one of them said, the words hanging in the air like a glowing warning sign.

Fragile, huh? That's good to know.

I ducked behind a stack of crates, slipping a small flash drive from my pocket. My plan was simple: Get to their main terminal, copy everything, and vanish before they knew I was even there.

The terminal was tucked into a small office on the far side of the warehouse. Getting to it meant crossing open ground, but that was nothing new for me. I waited until the guards were distracted, then darted across, moving like a shadow.

Once inside, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. The office was empty, the faint hum of a computer whispering hummm in the corner. I powered it on, plugging in my drive, and started copying files.

The data transfer was painfully slow, each percentage tick dragging on for what felt like an eternity. Outside, I could still see the words from the guards' conversation drifting faintly through the walls.

"Almost done."
"Did you hear something?"
"Go check it out."

Wait.

I froze, my eyes snapping to the door. Footsteps—big, heavy ones—thudded faintly, the sound almost lost against the hum of the computer.

Someone was coming.

The files were only at 74%. Too slow. I cursed under my breath, grabbing the drive and yanking it free. Better to cut my losses than get caught. I slipped into the shadows just as the door creaked open, a flashlight beam slicing through the darkness.

"Anyone here?"

I could see the guard's words as clearly as if he'd shouted them. He stepped into the room, his eyes scanning for movement, but I'd already slipped out the back window.

Back outside, I hit the ground running, weaving between the stacks of crates. I was almost free when I heard it—

BOOM!

The sound exploded in my head like a neon sign, followed by the glow of one word in my mind that could have happened:

"FIRE!"

I whipped around, my eyes darting toward the source. One of the crates had burst into flames, probably sparked by some idiot mishandling the fragile tech.

The guards were shouting now, their words a chaotic mess.

"Put it out!"
"Call for backup!"
"Boss is gonna kill us!"

I smirked. Serves them right.

But then I heard something else.

CRACK!

The container next to the fire groaned, the metal warping under the heat. If it collapsed, it would take out half the warehouse—and probably kill everyone inside.

Damn it.

Against my better judgment, I turned back, sprinting toward the fire. The guards didn't even notice me at first, too busy fumbling with extinguishers. I slipped past them, grabbing a loose hose from the ground, and started spraying down the flames.

"Who the hell is that?!"

"Some kid!"

"Get him!"

Oh, crap.

I felt a hand grab for my arm, but I twisted away, ducking low and sweeping the guy's legs out from under him. Another lunged at me, and I sidestepped, letting him crash into a stack of crates.

My training kicked in, every punch and dodge automatic. I wasn't stronger than them, but I was faster. Smarter.

By the time the flames were out, I was panting, my arms aching from the effort. The guards were scattered, some unconscious, others too dazed to fight.

I didn't stick around to celebrate.

I made it back to the rooftops, my heart still racing. The flash drive was secure in my pocket, the mission a partial success. But more importantly, I'd survived.

As I looked out over the city, the wind tugging at my costume, I couldn't help but smile.

This was it.

My first night as Sivax.

And it wouldn't be my last.