"So... I'm being hunted by people from the future," Jack muttered, his voice low and laced with disbelief. "Because I become too powerful. That about right, Joan, sorry, Maya."
"It's Maya," she corrected, her tone flat, unreadable. "And yes. They'll do anything to stop you before you become who you're meant to be. But I'm here to protect you."
Jack studied her from across the dimly lit motel room. The cheap curtains glowed faintly with the pre-dawn light, casting long shadows across the floor. He wanted to believe her. She looked the part, calm, confident, and deadly. But in his world, trust had become a luxury he could no longer afford.
He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply. "Get some rest. At sunrise, we'll find someone who can help us, Dr. Kim. She and I were working on a prototype time machine before I walked away from the project. She didn't. After I left, she stole the Crimson 5, a vital engine core. Without it, nothing works. If we want any chance of restoring the timeline, or stopping it from falling apart, we need her, Crimson 5and that machine."
Maya nodded but said nothing. She settled on the edge of the bed, blade never far from her reach.
Jack didn't sleep that night. He couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, the same image greeted him, Joan's lifeless body, her blood staining the cold concrete. The guilt sat like a stone on his chest, unmoving. No tears came. Not yet. Grief was being burned into something else. Something sharper.
By dawn, they were gone, no trace left behind. Maya hotwired a car in a quiet suburban alley, and they hit the road. The city slowly fell away behind them, giving way to cracked highways and pale morning light. He kept glancing into the rearview mirror, a gnawing feeling growing in his gut.
Then he saw them, seven motorcyclists, riding in tight formation.
At first, he told himself it was coincidence. Just a group out early. But as the miles passed, they crept closer, inch by inch, like vultures circling the dying.
"We've got company," he said, voice tense. "And I don't think they're friendly."
The bikers suddenly surged forward. The sharp bark of gunfire shattered the air.
One rider drew alongside, reached through the open window, and grabbed the wheel. Jack struggled to hold control, but the biker was strong. Before he could react, Maya moved.
She didn't hesitate. Her katana flashed, a precise arc of steel, pinning the man's hand to the door before slicing across his face. Blood sprayed as he screamed and fell backward.
Maya tossed Jack a pistol. "Make it count."
He didn't hesitate. Jack flung the door open, slamming it into another rider and sending him flying. He fired twice, three quick bursts. Two bikers dropped. The third swerved, but the bullet caught his tire. The bike flipped in a screech of metal and sparks.
Click.
Empty.
Jack ducked as bullets whizzed past the windshield. Maya swerved hard, yanked a grenade from her coat, and hurled it out the window. The explosion lit up the highway, a thunderous roar sending the remaining bikers scattering like leaves in a storm.
Then came the truck.
A massive freight hauler slammed into them from the side.
Everything shattered, glass, metal, thought.
Then, nothing.
Jack woke to pain. His vision swam. He hung upside down, seatbelt the only thing keeping him suspended in the twisted wreckage. Smoke curled in the air, acrid and choking. Somewhere nearby, Maya's voice called his name, faint but growing clearer.
Joan's face flickered through his mind again. The memory hit like a hammer to the chest.
He blinked. Then he saw him.
Roland.
The man who'd killed Joan.
"I should've finished you the first time," Roland growled, stepping through the smoke. "Let's fix that."
Jack reached down. The gun lay beside him, useless, empty.
Roland raised his pistol, a cruel smile stretching across his face.
Jack didn't think. He acted on instinct.
He raised a hand.
And the world stopped.
The bullet froze mid-air, suspended between them.
Time had halted, no, he had halted it.
Jack stared in disbelief. His breath caught.
Was this him?
He pushed, not with muscles, but with will.
The bullet snapped forward.
Straight into Roland's leg.
Roland screamed, crashing to the ground. He clutched his thigh, blood seeping between his fingers. He tried to crawl away, dragging himself toward the truck.
Maya stepped forward, sword raised.
Jack held up a hand. "No."
She paused, blade inches from Roland's throat.
"Let him go," Jack said coldly, his eyes locked on Roland's. "Let him live with the fear. I need time to understand this, whatever this is. Next time we meet, he'll beg for mercy."
Roland didn't wait. He scrambled into his vehicle and peeled off, tires screeching as he vanished down the road.
Jack and Maya climbed into a half-burned SUV left by the wreckage and drove on. Hours passed in silence.
They arrived at a nondescript cabin tucked in the woods, Dr. Kim's last known hideout. Jack stepped onto the porch, heart pounding. The woman inside might be their only hope, or another enemy in disguise.
He reached for the door, pushed it open, and froze.
A cold steel barrel pressed against his temple.
Dr. Kim stood behind it, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched.
"Well, well," she said, her voice laced with venom. "Jack Mercer. To what do I owe this incredibly unpleasant visit?"