"Great… just great."

Adam sat on the cracked pavement, staring at the pile of rubble that had once been his apartment building. The Shion was somewhere under all that concrete—his only real weapon, the gift from Clementine, buried like everything else good in his life.

He grabbed a piece of rock that rolled right in front of him and threw it toward the ruined building. And when he did so, another section of the building groaned and collapsed inward, sending up a fresh cloud of dust. As if the universe was mocking him.

Like all things in his life, he himself was the one causing his own ruin… he thought.

"Perfect," he muttered, covering his face in regret. Why did he even throw that rock in the first place?

"Just perfect," he repeated. He stared at the building for a few more seconds before looking around and nodding to himself.

At least no one else got hurt. The entire block looked abandoned—the cash he threw initially worked. But perhaps the fact that their fight lasted for an hour gave everyone ample time to wake from their high and run for their lives.

The entire time Adam had been living here… and yet as he stared at all this rubble, he didn't feel anything at all.

In a way, this has never really been his home at all.

Adam ran his hands through his hair, feeling the grit and debris. And randomly, he thought of the Shion again.

"Agh…" he covered his face, his frustration slowly crawling across his entire body.

Why did you even bring the weapon if you weren't actually going to use it, Adam? Look what happened. Stop trying to act cool.

He winced at his thoughts. That made sense—he should've just left it along with his other things. It—

"Hm…?" A rustle behind him made him turn.

It was Bjorn, slowly pushing himself up from the pavement, his massive body trembling with the effort. Blood dripped from his nose onto the concrete below, and his fine suit hung in tatters.

"Oh, so now you're awake." Adam almost scoffed, clearly agitated. "You couldn't wake up earlier?"

He remained seated, shaking his head as he watched the Hero struggle. Bjorn's movements were sluggish, uncoordinated—the fight had taken everything out of him.

But still, his hands started to move.

"Stop. The fight's over," Adam sighed.

But Bjorn wasn't trying to fight. His hands moved in patterns Adam didn't recognize—sign language. Unfortunately, no one was here to tell Adam what the Silent Brawler was trying to say.

Adam stared as Bjorn's trembling hands continued to move. "I don't understand whatever you're trying to say."

Bjorn's shoulders sagged. He looked around, then dipped his fingers in the blood that had soaked through his torn shirt. With painstaking effort, he began writing on the pavement.

'HOSPITAL.'

Then he pointed at Adam.

Adam only sighed and looked back at the collapsed building and didn't utter a response at all.

He stayed quiet for a long moment, not thinking of anything at all now. He just watched as more and more of the building started to slowly collapse. But finally, after a few more seconds, he spoke without looking at Bjorn.

"Leave. Just... go away. I'm not going to kill you."

But Bjorn was too weak to move. He could barely keep himself upright, let alone stand and walk away. All he could do was stare at Adam, and he finally realized it—what Adam truly was.

He'd been wrong. Completely wrong.

Adam wasn't a monster. The fact that he'd saved him, carried him out of a collapsing building after everything, proved that. Bjorn had come here expecting to face some kind of inhuman weapon, a creature driven by rage and vengeance. Instead, he'd found someone who chose mercy even when it cost him.

Bjorn was fully aware of what the Hospital had done to Adam. He'd read the files, seen the footage, heard the others talk of years of torture.

That was why he'd had no qualms about wanting to stop him—after all, if he had gone through what Adam endured, he would have burned the world to ash.

But Adam hadn't. Didn't. Despite everything, he was still trying to save people.

Bjorn dipped his fingers in blood again and wrote, 'GO FAR AWAY. HOSPITAL IS EVERYWHERE.'

Adam read the words and stood up with a heavy sigh. "I'm sure they are."

Bjorn wrote again, his letters growing shakier, 'NO ESCAPE HERE IN AMERICA.'

Adam shook his head. "I wouldn't have come back here if I was going to escape."

Something in Adam's tone made Bjorn look up. The young man seemed to grow larger as he spoke, his presence filling the space around them despite his small stature.

"The Hospital doesn't need to chase me," Adam said quietly.

"Because I'm coming for them soon."

Bjorn's eyes widened. He was going to write another warning, another plea for Adam to reconsider, but he just sighed instead. Maybe... maybe Adam could do it.

Unfortunately for Bjorn… he was sure he would no longer be there to witness it.

Bjorn stared at the ground for a while, processing everything that had happened. Adam was already turning to leave…

…but then Bjorn decided to return the favor as he wrote on the pavement again.

'DOCTOR ALIVE.'

"What…?" Adam's eyes went wide as soon as he read that. He spun around and grabbed Bjorn by the shoulders. "What do you mean? Which doctor?"

Sirens began echoing from somewhere in the distance, growing closer.

Adam's voice rose, urgent now. "Answer me! Which doctor is alive? Is it Dr. Aniston? Or is it… her? Do you know who she is?!"

But alas, Bjorn's eyes rolled back… and he collapsed.

"What the… now?!" Adam was about to lift Bjorn, to carry him somewhere safe where they could continue this conversation. But alas, he soon heard voices approaching. Multiple people, getting closer.

He had no choice. He dropped Bjorn and stepped back.

After all, he was an unregistered Hero. If the IBAA caught him, the punishment would be severe. He'd escaped the Hospital for all these years, survived everything they'd thrown at him, only to be caught by another organization?

That wasn't going to happen.

"Aah!" He raised his voice in frustration, turning around to flee.

His silhouette, slowly fading away into the haze of dust and debris.

***

"We're rolling in fifteen minutes!"

At the same time, somewhere else in the country, people were busy running around a set. The studio lights shifted, with the crew preparing for their final take of the day.

"Makeup! Hurry up with Katherine!"

And one of the actors there just happened to be the Hero that Adam had been seeing everywhere on billboards and commercials.

Katherine Thorne, the Radiant Shield.

Katherine sat patiently in the makeup chair while the artist touched up her foundation for the hundredth time.

"Just a few more minutes!" the makeup artist shouted, dabbing concealer under Katherine's eyes. "It's not our fault, it's so hot in here! God, why is LA turning into hell?!"

Katherine chuckled at her words.

"Can we get aircondition—" And before the makeup artist could continue her complaint, a sharp crack echoed through the studio, followed by screams.

One of the massive light fixtures had torn free from its rigging, crashing down onto a cameraman below. The man lay pinned beneath twisted metal and shattered glass, blood spraying around his head.

"Fuck! Someone call 911!" the director shouted, his voice cracking with panic. "S-shit… who's responsible for this?! Set dec?!

"Get that thing off him! It—"

"Don't move him!" And before anyone else, there could approach the man, Katherine bolted from her chair. "You could make it worse!"

She gently pushed through the gathering crowd, her costume wrinkling with her haste.

"Move back, give him space," she commanded, dropping to her knees beside the injured man.

"Jay, are you awake?" Her hands gently moved across the man, checking his pulse, examining the wound on his scalp. Blood seeped through her fingers as she applied pressure to stem the bleeding.

"Someone get me clean towels," she called out, then began tearing strips from her expensive costume without hesitation. "Jay?"

The cameraman's eyes fluttered open, unfocused and frightened.

"Hey, look at me," Katherine said softly. "You're going to be okay. I need you to stay still for me, alright?"

She wrapped the torn fabric around his head gently.

"The bleeding's slowing down," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "Good. That's good. Jay, do you know where you are? Can you look at me?"

The crew stood in stunned silence, watching their glamorous star on the floor. Her makeup was smudged, her costume ruined, and her hands covered in blood.

"Do… you guys think he's gonna be okay?"

"It's a good thing Ms. Katherine was here."

"Has anyone called 911 yet?! Why are all of you just letting Katherine do everything?!"

"Where even are the medics?!"

"What for? Ms. Katherine's here. I heard…

…she used to be a doctor."

[Immortal in a Death Game - Book 1: END]

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