Chapter Four
Peter Strong
Chicago was burning.
News anchors would later say it began with an earthquake.Civilians swore the sky shook.But the truth was that Protogenus engineered every second of the chaos.And the first blow struck harder than anyone predicted.
They didn’t wait for morning.
They wanted shock value.
They wanted cameras rolling.
They wanted blood.
Chicago’s skyline flickered past the windows in blurred streaks of neon and smoke.Brynn sat across from him, already laced into her gear, her dark hair tied back, eyes steady.Anyone else might have looked nervous with that much chaos unfolding ahead of them.Brynn only looked focused.
“There are civilians trapped on all three upper floors,” she said, checking the tactical feed on her wrist.
Peter nodded once.“Then we prioritize them.”
Brynn gave a small, knowing smile.“Wouldn’t expect anything else.”
Their carrier screeched to a halt.Brynn was out the door before the brakes finished complaining, her form a swift blur across broken pavement.Peter followed, the humid night air thick with dust and the metallic tang of exposed wiring.
The scene was every degree of catastrophic the report had promised.A Dioscuri variant was tearing through the lower façade of the building.Then it threw a sedan like it weighed nothing.Civilians scattered, some screaming, others frozen.News crews, already in position, kept their cameras trained on the destruction with grim fascination.
Peter stepped forward, letting the supe see him.
The variant snarled and lunged.
The impact was like colliding with a speeding train.It threw up shards of concrete in all directions, rattling windows a block away.But Peter dug his boots into the ground and held the line, meeting the violent energy with the full force of his own immovable weight.
A second hit landed against his ribs, powerful enough to dent a steel pillar.Peter shifted only an inch.The variant faltered, confusion flickering across his altered features.
Behind him, Brynn’s voice carried over the comms.“South stairwell clear.Moving to second floor.”
Peter didn’t need to look to know she was moving like smoke through the corridors, her steps precise, fast, her speed buoyed by the bond they shared.Even now her presence was like a second heartbeat, reassuring in its steadiness.
A black van screeched around the corner, tires screaming in protest.Protogenus operatives spilled out.
