Chapter 12

[Near MetaWave Headquarters - September 24th, 2085]

The following morning, James received his new uniform from the Shadow Republic. It was sleek and mostly black, but the top shouldering was crafted from a synthetic fabric with a deep, iridescent purple sheen. The emblem of the Aztec raven, like the one Sentra wore, adorned both of his shoulders, a symbol of power and ancient wisdom. A small metal container was given to him, holding new contact lenses. As he placed them in his eyes, his vision sharpened instantly, and he soon realized the advanced capabilities of the augmented reality display—he could zoom in on distant objects and retrieve information at a glance. 

James kept the resonant stone a secret from the SR, tucking it securely into his jacket pocket.

A specialized team was assembled, and they boarded an air taxi. The craft, heavily modified and slightly larger than standard models, bore the SR’s new symbol: a raven engulfed in a purple triangle, emblazoned on the side. Inside, the team was whisked across the desolate, ash-covered landscape. In mere seconds, they landed near MetaWave Headquarters. Exiting the craft, James took a small squad of droids and headed to the homeless camps he had seen on the broadcasts.

The scene was worse than James had imagined. The stench of urine and smog choked the air. The silence was eerie, interrupted only by the occasional coughing and moaning of the homeless, many of whom lay dying in their tents or sprawled across the streets, unprotected from the cancerous ashfall. His first encounter was with a younger man slumped against a building, his legs covered in giant sores, swollen and raw. His face was riddled with lighter sores and dirt. The man was clearly addicted to tranq, a potent mix of opioids and animal tranquilizers.

“How long have you had these sores?” James asked, kneeling beside him. The young man barely reacted, only managing a weak, hollow stare. James motioned to a droid to bring the man a gas mask, which the team was distributing.

“Alright,” James said gently, pulling out the resonant stone from his pocket. “I need you to touch this prism. Hold on to it for a few seconds, and let go when it dims.”

The man’s trembling hand reached out. As soon as his fingers made contact with the stone, a peaceful, resonant sound enveloped them. His grip tightened as he watched, wide-eyed, as the sores on his legs receded, and then, incredibly, his open wound fully healed. Tears welled up in his eyes and streamed down his face. The stone darkened, and the man stood, rejuvenated, with newfound strength. A droid handed him a gas mask, which he gratefully accepted.

The miraculous event seemed to awaken the entire camp. The soothing sound of the stone had lured hundreds of homeless people from their tents, and they began to form a crowd around James and the droids. Even James was in awe of the stone’s power. He asked everyone to return to their tents, promising he would make his way through the camp.

Before long, a camera drone appeared, hovering above, recording the scene. At first, the droids moved to disable it, but James called them off. The drone was small, quick, and agile, able to navigate tight spaces with ease.

One by one, James and his team entered each tent. The stone didn’t just heal wounds; it seemed to fundamentally alter the minds of those it touched. Some fell asleep during their contact with the prism, only to wake up and recount vivid dreams where they had encountered strange entities, glimpsed their future selves, or experienced otherworldly interactions. The camp buzzed with excitement, and word spread quickly. As night fell, James worked tirelessly, visiting every tent in the camp, and then continuing to heal the hundreds more scattered across the downtown area.

Just before sunrise, James and the droids approached a larger tent at the end of a busy street. Inside, a man wearing a gas mask stood, holding a gun. James froze. Without warning, the man fired, and the bullet struck James in the chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. Blood gushed from the wound as James crumpled to his knees, his vision blurring.

"Tell your droids to get out of here—now," the shooter demanded, his voice a low growl filled with menace. James stood his ground, defiance etched on his face. The man, eyes wild with desperation, pulled the trigger again, the deafening crack of the gunshot echoing in the confined space.

James crumpled on the ground, blood pooling beneath him, yet an excruciating sound erupted from the Resonance Stone tucked away in his pocket. Its powerful glow burst forth, casting radiant beams of light that danced around the tent like a beacon of hope. The reverberating hum filled the air, a sound so intense it stunned the shooter, sending him sprawling backward under the sheer force of its energy.

The bullet that had lodged itself in James’ skull was expelled, clattering to the ground as his wound healed in mere seconds. Rising from the floor, James felt a surge of power coursing through him, the Resonance Stone pulsing with an otherworldly energy. The droids, quick to react, disarmed the shooter and restrained him, their mechanical grips unyielding.

The man's expression morphed from aggression to sheer disbelief as James retrieved the bullet, holding it up like a trophy. He brought it closer to the shooter's face, allowing him to comprehend the gravity of his failure. For a lingering moment, silence enveloped them, the only sound being the quiet hum of the Resonance Stone, amplifying the tension in the air. Then, without a word, James crushed the bullet in his fist and delivered a swift punch to the shooter’s face, sending blood streaming from the man’s nose.

“Fuck you!” the attacker screamed, his voice filled with rage as the droids tightened their hold. James, unfazed, placed the Resonance Stone against the man’s forehead, healing the damage he had inflicted. As the man blinked in confusion, his face returned to its uninjured state, James unleashed another punch, this one powered by the stone. The force sent the man reeling, his eye swelling and fresh blood trickling down his chin.

Looking down, James spotted the man’s gun lying forgotten on the floor. He snatched it up, feeling the weight of it in his hand as the shooter struggled futilely against the droids’ grip. 

“Tell us who you are,” one of the droids demanded, its voice flat and emotionless.

“That’s not necessary,” James interjected, his tone icy. “I already know who he is.” He aimed the gun at the man’s head, the threat clear and undeniable.

“I just need to know who sent you,” James said, his gaze unwavering.

“Fuck you!” The man spat defiantly, but his bravado shattered as James fired a shot into his right shoulder. The attacker howled in agony, as blood flowed freely.

“I’m going to ask one more time. Who sent you?” James pressed, his voice colder than the gunmetal in his grip. Without waiting for an answer, he pulled the trigger again, this time hitting the man in the left foot. The screech of pain that erupted from the man echoed off the walls, a raw testament to his suffering.

“Victor! It was Victor! Victor Stone!” he cried out, blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. “He paid me to take you out!”

With that revelation, James stormed out of the tent, his heart pounding with purpose. He ordered the droids to drag the wounded man into the open, leaving a crimson trail on the pavement behind him. As they emerged into the light, the drone hovered overhead, capturing every moment of this grim spectacle, zooming in to capture the agonized expression of the dying man.

A crowd began to gather, murmurs rising like a tide of fear and curiosity. Panic set in as the reality of the scene unfolded before them—an injured man, a potential assassin, exposed to the world. The air crackled with tension, each person uncertain of what would come next.

James drew the gun again, leveling it at the man’s face, a glint of steel that mirrored the icy resolve in his eyes. “Who here has purchased drugs from this man?” he demanded, scanning the crowd of homeless individuals who averted their gazes, shuffled their feet, and avoided eye contact like they were dodging bullets.

With a flick of his wrist, he produced the Resonance Stone from his pocket, its surface shimmering as a brilliant flash of light erupted from it, casting ethereal shadows across the faces of those gathered. The piercing and fierce tone accompanied its light, its vibrational force palpable, making the crowd instinctively recoil in fear, as if the very sound were a physical weapon.

“I sold them the drugs,” the dying man finally admitted, his voice a defeated whisper, a stark contrast to his earlier bravado.

“Now, tell all these people who paid you to kill me,” James insisted, his tone commanding. “Look at the camera and tell the people who sent you.” He pointed toward the drone hovering above, its lens focused on the unfolding drama.

The man hesitated, his eyes narrowing with defiance. “I’m not telling you anything,” He then loomed closer, in an act of rebellion that fell flat in the face of imminent danger.

In a heartbeat, James squeezed the trigger again, the gunshot echoing like thunder in the tense silence. This time, he shot the man in the chest. The impact was immediate and visceral; life visibly drained from the shooter’s face as he slumped, his head dropping forward like a marionette with its strings severed, growing limp in the droids’ unyielding grasp.

Yet, as the crowd gasped and whispers of shock spread like wildfire, James took a deep breath and pressed the Resonance Stone to the man’s body. The stone pulsed with radiant energy, and in an instant, the dying man gasped back to life, his wounds vanishing like mirages in the desert heat.

James stepped back, watching as the man blinked in confusion, momentarily unaware of his surroundings. The crowd, still reeling from the spectacle of death and resurrection, gasped collectively.

To the dead man's absolute horror, he awoke again to the gun in his face. "Welcome to hell." said James apoplectically, "You better hope to God that I let you die next time." Once again James shot the man, this time on the other shoulder. He then reloaded the gun. "That shot was for all the people you killed with your tranquilizers. I'm going to watch you slowly die for every single one of them. " 

"Okay! Okay! I'll speak, I'll tell you everything." The man blurted out of pure fear. "My name is Jack Danton. I was paid $250,000 to kill you." 

James fired the gun again, this time striking the man just below the knee. The shot rang out like a death knell, and the man screamed in agony, the sound echoing in the heavy air around them. “Say his name,” James commanded, his voice a low growl, full of menace.

“Victor Stone! Victor Stone and a group of his men came to my house last night,” the man gasped between cries of pain. “They gave me money and promised $500,000 more after the job.” Each word he uttered dripped with desperation, his resolve crumbling under the weight of his injuries.

Pleased with the response, James pressed the Resonance Stone against the man’s forehead, watching as a soothing light enveloped him. The healing energy surged through the man, knitting flesh and sinew, restoring him to health. Once the wounds vanished, the droids seized him, taking him away for further investigation, their movements precise and efficient.

As the crowd dispersed, a somber mood settled over the street. The atmosphere was thick with uncertainty and despair. The droids began escorting many of the homeless off to convoys, tasked with transporting them to safe zones beyond the reach of the toxic ash. Yet, even as they offered assistance, an overwhelming feeling of defeat loomed in the air like an ominous cloud.

To compound their hopelessness, the nearby mountain released another flow of lava, the molten rock cascading down its slopes and hurling toward the bustling technological district. Whispers of panic rippled through the crowd as word spread that it might be headed toward the MetaWave building, a nerve center of power and corruption. 

James watched as the chaos unfolded, urgency coursing through him. The team sprang into action, working feverishly to onboard the panicking refugees, moving swiftly to ensure their safety. With each passing moment, the urgency of their mission deepened, and the stakes grew higher as the threat of natural disaster intertwined with the human struggle for survival. The shadow of Victor Stone loomed large over them all, a reminder of the battle that lay ahead.