Somewhere outside, a car honked, followed by the chatter of kids playing. Saturday. No school. No training. No pressure.
Cal groaned and rolled over, hair a mess, breath dry, eyes reluctant to open. Then came the buzz. His phone vibrated on the nightstand, and he fumbled for it with sleep-dulled fingers.
Nate: Dude. Get your ass up. Let's do something before we rot.
Cal: Define something.
Nate: Mall? Arcade? Girls? Pick your poison.
Cal smirked to himself. It seemed Nate was finally free of his illness.
Fifteen minutes later, he was dressed and heading out the door. Baggy hoodie. Cheap cologne. Wallet with barely enough velm to matter. But it didn't matter. It was the weekend. And for once, he wanted to forget powers, Kira's attitude, Selene's teasing, and the sense of being drawn into a world he wasn't prepared for.
Just one normal day.
⸻
The mall was loud, packed, and comfortably chaotic. Kids their age darted in and out of stores, couples clung to each other like their hormones were lifelines, and fast food stalls filled the air with the scent of fried heaven. Nate was already elbow-deep in nachos by the time Cal caught up with him near the food court fountain.
"You look like shit," Nate said with his mouth full.
"Appreciate it."
Cal chuckled and leaned against the fountain rail. It felt almost surreal, how easily he could slip into this version of himself again. The guy who had nothing but jokes and dreams and maybe a few dirty thoughts running through his head.
They wandered the mall for a while talking about nothing in particular, flirting with girls who didn't flirt back, and playing a few rounds of an old arcade fighter Cal barely won.
It wasn't until they were passing the tech store that it happened.
"Hey."
That voice.
Cal turned and saw her—Becky.
Tight jeans again. Tank top with a light jacket tied around her waist. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun, a few strands brushing her cheek. She had that fresh, glowing look that stopped his brain completely.
She was standing with a drink in hand, sipping through a straw. He blinked, suddenly aware of how dry his mouth was.
"Oh. Hey," Cal said, trying not to sound too surprised.
Nate gave him a look—half smirk, half raised brow—and muttered, "I'll be over there."
Shit! Cal thought to himself
Becky stepped closer. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Same."
"You don't seem like the shopping type." Becky said
"Yeah, I'm more of a… survive-the-week type."
She laughed. Soft and natural.
There was a second—a flicker of silence between them—as she glanced at him, eyes dipping low before returning to his face.
Cal noticed.
So did she.
"So," Becky said, swaying slightly, "you hanging out with Nate today?"
"Yeah. Just killing time."
Another pause.
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Want to walk a bit?"
He glanced at Nate, who gave him two thumbs up from a distance.
"Sure."
They walked side by side through the crowd. At first, it was just small talk. Teachers they hated. Cafeteria food and that one guy who wore flip-flops even in the winter
They stopped at a corner stall selling random plushies and keychains. Becky picked one up—a black cat with crooked eyes.
"It's ugly," Cal said.
"I like it."
He grinned. "Figures."
She gave him a look that was half playful, half teasing and something beneath it, deeper.
"Ever thought about kissing me?"
The question hit like a thunderclap.
He choked. "What?"
She tilted her head, playing innocent. "Just wondering."
His cheeks burned. "I—uh—I mean…"
She smiled and stepped back, waving him off. "Relax. I'm messing with you."
But her eyes said otherwise.
"See you around, Cal."
She walked away.
And he stood there, stuck between stunned and stupid.
⸻
Later that afternoon, he returned home with a half-eaten pretzel and a head full of Becky.
His mom was in the kitchen, apron dusted with flour, stirring something in a mixing bowl. Music played softly from a speaker—old pop songs from her youth that she swore never aged.
"There he is," she said without turning. "The mysterious wanderer returns."
"Hey, Mom."
"Good day?" Mrs. Everene asked
"Yeah. Kinda."
She glanced at him. "You look flushed."
"I don't want to talk about it."
She smirked and went back to stirring. "Girls, huh?"
"I said I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, I do," she teased.
He sat at the counter and watched her for a while. There was something comforting about her presence. The way she hummed. The way she scraped the bowl with just enough force to make it musical. She wasn't around as often as he liked—always working, always exhausted. But when she was, the world felt… safer.
"You eating dinner with me tonight?" she asked.
"Can't. Homework."
She gave him a look.
"Okay, maybe just tired."
"Fair enough."
He stood and kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Mom."
⸻
Nightfall came quietly and the stars peeked out over Halcroft, blinking behind clouds that hung like curtains waiting to be pulled. But elsewhere, far from suburban warmth and teenage nerves, something darker unfolded.
A cold warehouse. Lit only by a ring of flickering overhead lights.
Seven Arbiters—ragged, restrained, and wide-eyed, sat bound in a row, surrounded by Ledger agents. Their uniforms were marked. Their expressions unreadable.
And then came the click of high heels.
Selene entered the scene like a shadow made flesh. Leather. Silk. Poise. Behind her trailed two low-ranked Arbiters, their faces hidden behind dark masks.
The captured Arbiters went tense at the sight of her. One tried to speak—muffled by the cloth tied around his mouth.
Selene didn't need to hear him. She stopped in front of them, arms behind her back, gaze sharp.
"You're going to a place we call Greywall," Selene continued. "A facility designed for Arbiters like you. No sun. No outside contact. No freedom."
She leaned closer to one trembling girl.
"But plenty of time to reflect."
There was no fight left in them, only fear.
She turned and walked away, heels echoing through the metal hall.
Behind her, the prisoners were dragged off—one by one—toward transport vehicles waiting outside.
She didn't watch. Didn't have to.
Her work was done. For now.