0-60 Union Turnpike, Glendale, Queens, NY, USA – February 14, 2023 | 00:59 A.M.
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3KKAwS5Tnw
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ90RkHqhdHJ
A twisted amalgam of angel and executioner emerged from the bleeding skyline and ripped Zeus inside-out.
He howled in agony.
Starling and Zeus had been battling for nearly an hour, their conflict tearing through the city like a mythic tempest. Lightning had scorched craters into the streets, buildings lay in ruin, and the air sizzled with energy. They tore at each other like rabid dogs—limbs flung, regrown, torn again. Neither would yield: Zeus’s obsession with transcendence, Starling’s hunger for victory.
Again and again, they reformed—bones, flesh, storm and fire—until finally, Starling grew bored.
Not weakened. Bored.
As the world around them warped, Zeus vaulted into the sky. A bolt of lightning twisted in his grip, expanding into a javelin the length of a city block. He hurled it toward her with cataclysmic force.
Starling didn’t flinch.
She stood still, watching him with a blank expression that slowly warped into an uncanny smile. Below, dew suspended mid-air. The atmosphere trembled.
As the lightning tore through the clouds toward her, Starling drew her bow—formed again from her arm—and unleashed Vorpal. The blade, fired like an arrow, tore past Zeus. It didn’t strike him.
It rewrote the sky.
Behind him, the bolt etched ancient script into the heavens. The moment Zeus’s javelin struck Starling, it obliterated her shoulder—but something else answered the challenge.
From the eclipse above, a statue—ancient, robed, its face carved in stone—descended behind Zeus. It raised a divine arm and hurled a bolt of its own.
Starling’s voice echoed through the storm:
“You may call yourself Zeus, but only one Zeus is in my Records. And he is not you.”
Zeus plummeted to the ground. Starling waited, unblinking, as his broken form crashed before her. Vines of burning thorns erupted from her body, reforming her destroyed limbs.
The true Zeus approached from behind, touched the burning ring of the eclipse, and placed it gently atop Starling’s head. Then he fragmented into runes and entered the halo above her, merging with the cipher etched into her forehead.
The imposter—Zeus the Djinn—was nearly destroyed. Only his torso remained, flickering like a glitch. Starling knelt beside him, Vorpal in hand—not with rage, but with melancholy.
“You were rare,” she said. “A human—no, a Resonance user—who came close to grasping the Akashic Records. You shaped your own version of reality. That makes you a Transcendent. I affectionately call such beings Nova.”
“I don’t see why you needed my Book of Life. You could bend reality already. Your abilities nearly rivaled my Eidolons.”
Rain returned. The world reset—New York flickered back into its ruined but familiar shape. Both Zeus and Starling were soaked in cold rain. He coughed magma, clutching his fractured chest.
“Your pawns are pathetic,” he wheezed. “Couldn’t even finish the job.”
From a smashed window, Gordon shouted as if watching a football match:
“Woohoo! You did it, damn girl! What’re you waiting for? Finish him!”
Starling didn’t blink.
“I intend to. You were right. My chess pieces are imperfect. So I’ll finish this myself.”
Vorpal distorted again, bending the world like an event horizon. She raised it, spun once, and prepared to strike—a final blow that would shatter Zeus into unrecognisable fragments.
But then—17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnE2CVP7NAM
A woman threw herself over his body.
“Please—don’t kill him!”
Starling froze. Her eyes widened, the sword a breath away from cleaving both of them.
No one had noticed her leave the building during the battle. Now, with arms outstretched, she shielded Zeus with her body.
“Kill them, Miss! They’re reasons why we’re not safe! They’re murderers!”
The voices came from the apartment above. People Starling had protected now screamed in fury.
“MURDERERS!”17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOyeuXwf9RE
“KILL THEM!”
Autumn's voice pierced the frenzy:
“LEAVE MY MOM ALONE!”
But the mob was already turning—toward the children.
“YOU KIDS! YOUR STUPID WISH NEARLY KILLED US ALL! YOU SHOULD BE PUNISHED WITH HER!”
Panic swept through the group. Bart and Tetsuo stood between the children and the swelling mob.
“CALM DOWN! BLAMING THEM FIXES NOTHING!” Bart shouted.
But rage boiled over.
“With all due respect, Doctor Buchanan—my comrades died because of that wish!” one rebel cried. “Brimstone told us! We lost supplies, people, our mission—because of those kids! We’re surrounded by Biohazards and how are we going to survive?!”
“I SAY WE KILL THEM!”
The crowd surged.
Tetsuo raised a shield—but it shattered under an attacker’s blow. He crumpled to the ground. Bart manage to use “Administering Sedative” from his Gizmo that sedated the frenzy mob. Few of the hysteric crowds are subdued before they can bring any more harm, Bart action deters some of the mob.
The woman guarding Zeus sobbed.
“Please… take me. Just protect my children. And him.”
“LET US PASS! THE CHILDREN NEED TO BE—”
A screech tore through the sky.
The ceiling split.
Rain turned black. Then red. Then vanished.
Gravity twisted. The air tore open like fabric. From the rift descended a colossal, multi-armed woman draped in ash-coloured silks. Her skin was inscribed with forgotten glyphs. Her eyes burned like dying stars.
Kaali.
The Eidolon, Starling, summoned Kaali.
Her colossal, deity-like form emerged across the ceiling, her presence so oppressive that everyone dropped to the floor. Seven of her arms extended, snatching seven mobsters mid-charge—just inches from harming the children, teenagers, and the coughing figures of Bart and Tetsuo.
Starling stood calmly at the threshold of the apartment.
“Can I come in?” she asked, her voice childlike, lips curled in a serene smile.
“Oh—uh, sure!” Gordon replied with a forced cheerfulness, still shaken from the mob's earlier frenzy.
Starling's eyes shifted. The innocence drained from them, replaced by a cold, feral stare.
“You have to say it,” she said flatly. “I can come in.”
The group stared, confused. Why did she need permission?
“You can come in,” a boy muttered.
For a fraction of a second, Tetsuo glimpsed Felix—smiling, flashing a peace sign—before vanishing like smoke.
“Damn it! The Interstice is getting worse!” someone yelled, lunging for where Felix had stood. His hands met only air.
Starling stepped into the room.
“Let us go, you bitch!” the mob leader roared, echoed by others.
Kaali turned her gaze on them. In her stare, memories unspooled like film reels, projections playing their darkest truths. One by one, the offenders’ crimes revealed themselves.
First was Karl Richter:
Frederick Winston pedalled through Manhattan, savouring the glow of the city at night. Halfway home to the suburbs, he spotted a man standing on the pavement with a mannequin, waving cheerfully.
Frederick waved back, uneased.
Then—his bike tumbled. More mannequins moved across the street, surrounding him. He blacked out.
Moments later, in a darkened room, his organs were being severed. Karl Richter—smiling—replaced his decaying organs with Frederick’s fresh ones, discarding the old, trembling tissue like worn clothes. A grotesque rebirth. He danced with glee, surrounded by childlike mannequins—who began to sob without knowing why.
Kaali gently placed a lotus flower on Frederick’s dismembered form.
Richter convulsed. His memories, once sealed behind mental walls stolen from other Quasars, collapsed. His psychic defences were useless. The stolen abilities were never truly his.
Second offender is Lana Kendrick:
Barbara Gordon walked toward the station to report someone linked to terrorism. Hours earlier, she’d argued with her girlfriend.
“How could you join a terrorist group?!”
“They’re not terrorists—they’re visionaries! Don’t fall for NIX propaganda!”
Barbara had confronted Lana: “You stole from my account—to fund them?”
“It’s for the greater good,” Lana said, eyes distant.
“I have no money left for tuition.”
Barbara stormed out.
Blocks away from the station, a quill stabbed into her neck from the shadows. Her body convulsed, melting into an oozing mass. The toxin dismantled her from within.
Lana emerged from the bushes, trembling. She rummaged through Barbara’s purse, found the savings card, and left as her partner dissolved into the soil.
Kaali placed a lotus on the site where Barbara’s body now bloomed into wildflowers.
Lana trembled violently in Kaali’s grasp. Spikes erupted from her skin in desperation. Kaali didn’t flinch. She simply squeezed. Lana whimpered, defeated.
Third is Milo Carras:
Trevor Fujiwara locked up the grocery store. Lights off. Doors checked.
Then—darkness. A cloth muffled his scream.
Milo Carras dragged him through a rift.
“Give me extra,” he demanded, tossing Trevor into a cell filled with children in rags. He counted money, satisfied. From the shadows, a figure in a hazmat suit nodded approvingly.
Behind him, his rebel comrades stood in silence, disgust plain on their faces. They stepped away from him. Fear had made space for shame.
Forth is Phoebe McGregor:
Xander Martinez gasped, soaked in sweat. The training field was deadly. Becoming a Stargazer was practically a death sentence.
Phoebe clapped him on the back. He flinched.
“You’re not quitting, are you?” she chuckled, thinly veiling threat as humour.
“I... I can’t do this,” he stammered.
“A shame. Now get back out there.”
Her siren voice compelled him. He obeyed.
In the dead of night, she bypassed security, unlocking a sealed arena. Xander stood inside, staring as Void creatures crept in, corrupting the ground.
“No—please! I’ll try harder!” he cried, banging on the forcefield.
Phoebe waved. “Tada!”
She erased the logs, sealed the doors, and left him to scream.
Now, facing Starling, Phoebe panicked. “Tell your mutt to let me go! Everyone, attack—!”
Starling silenced her with a raised hand. Phoebe's voice vanished.
Kaali placed a lotus on Xander’s torn body.
Rain fell silently. No spell held the crowd still—it was truth. Raw, inescapable.
Starling’s eyes fixed on the final three: all civilians, trembling. Nowhere to run.
Kaali’s six eyes flared. For the first time, she spoke.
Fifth is Travis Renn:
A suburban road. Rain. Children on bikes. Laughter.
A car. Screams. Twisted metal.
One child dead. One paralysed.
Travis, later, spoke at schools about road safety. A flask hidden in his coat.
“You blamed the rain,” Kaali said. “You bought silence. Paid your guilt in whiskey.”
Travis shouted, “It was an accident!”
Starling’s voice cut through: “And yet you still drove. Every week.”
Another image: Travis, drunk behind the wheel—last month.
“You didn’t change,” Kaali murmured. “Only your audience did.”
Sixth is Melanie Crass:
A laptop screen. A teenage girl crying as tries to meet the socials standards, trying to fit in. Doctored images. Mockery. Doxxing.
“She was thirteen,” Starling said coldly.
Melanie scoffed. “Free speech.”
“She’s dead,” Starling whispered. “While you blogged about ‘discipline.’”
Seventh is Gregor Vant:
An abandoned warehouse. Isolation rooms. Uniformed teens in forced drills. Screams muted by stone.
Two died. Dozens broken.
Gregor stood over them, cane in hand.
“This generation is weak,” he spat. “Discipline forged me!”
Starling stared at him—long, hard. His words stirred something unspoken in her.
Lucy rose behind them, eyes wide with look to kill. She moved toward the kitchen silently.
Starling gave Gregor a thin smile.
“I’m curious—how much discipline can you endure?”
She raised her hand.
Sanity ruptured. Time slowed. The air around them froze with consequence, not cold.
Gregor finally broke.
“Consume them,” Starling commanded.
Kaali dropped them onto burning earth. They didn’t realise—they’d been doomed the moment they sinned.
Kaali devoured them. One by one. Their screams echoed—prey consumed by a divine predator.
Outside, the apartment seemed untouched. Still. Ordinary.
As if it all happened in a snow globe.
A different world.
A judgment hidden in plain sight.
“I can’t believe it... Those were the missing recruits,” Tetsuo thought, watching the last of the condemned fall under Kaali’s judgement. NIX might have played their part in the disappearances, but it wasn’t them pulling the strings.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQqy9a91Mop
The Paradox Movement—just a cult in disguise—drunk on power, desperate to mirror NIX’s influence.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGqRrg2eOk6
Who can I trust anymore?
The mob quieted, their rage drained by shame. Eyes downcast, they mumbled apologies and stepped back, having nearly killed innocent children just to reclaim some illusion of normalcy.
A Japanese man, who’d protected the teenagers during the chaos, offered his hand to Tetsuo and helped him to his feet.
Suddenly, Autumn ran up with a grin.
“I saw you in white! With rainbow powers! You used your moon sceptre to defeat the bad guys like a fairy godmother!” she squealed.
“What?! That’s not what happened!” Georgie argued, grabbing Starling’s arm. Autumn tugged her other arm in protest.
“Did too!”
“Did not!”
They bickered, locked in a playful tug-of-war.
“Your little sister sees something different,” Starling said softly—her voice not aloud, but resonating in their minds.
Georgie froze, wide-eyed. Starling crouched to meet Autumn’s gaze.
“Your heart is radiant—like sunshine,” she said gently. “Never let the world tarnish it. Your dreams, your hopes... they’re your treasure.”
Starling then turn her attention to Georgie “R-rated stuff isn’t for your age...” she muttered. Georgie glanced away, guilty.
Blake and Meg stared at him.
“How much did you see?!” Blake gasped, grabbing Georgie in a headlock.
“Let go! Rambo was interesting!” Georgie struggled while Blake laughed, holding him tight.
Starling smiled faintly and stepped out of the apartment.
Above, three colossal Ryu dragons shrieked skyward, and the rain ceased.
Nearby, Remy and Ramona exchanged anxious glances.
“Do you think she’s waiting to punish us?” Ramona asked, voice trembling.
“I don’t know,” Remy admitted, uncertain.
“Don’t worry, Mr and Mrs Smith,” said a voice behind them. Brimstone approached, hands folded behind his back. “She doesn’t remember you. She isn’t Elizabeth anymore—or should I say, Alice.”
“How do you know?” Remy challenged.
“I’m certain,” Brimstone replied, glancing at Bart. “Isn’t that right, Dr Buchanan?”
Bart remained silent, eyes down. Lucy stirred her mug of hot chocolate in the corner, silently listening—her face unreadable.
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjkVmACGSEF
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7fB252dhiS
***
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYMIJscaPeT
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtJNvaUt8Lc
A Few Hours Earlier…
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyRkm05Ij0w
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc033lAX5Mw
A splash of cold water jolted Bart awake.
His body ached, bound to a chair in a dimly lit apartment room. A young man loomed over him with a smug grin.
“About time,” the man sneered, slapping Bart hard across the face. Pain shot through him.
“Hey, doc. This is just the beginning,” he said before landing a punch to Bart’s stomach. He doubled over, gasping.
“You saved lives—built tech that saved thousands. Maybe even thanks to your Constellation,” the man continued bitterly. “And yet, you opened the box. You unleashed her.”
His voice cracked with fury.
“That prison was sealed for a reason. You realise our worlds are suffering because of her? Her naive dreams—and your betrayal!”
He struck Bart again.
Then Brimstone entered the room, visibly irritated.
“Enough. Killing off your own rivals in the Project wasn’t enough for you? You let yourself be captured to ensure their deaths. Half my team is gone thanks to your jealousy.”
Brimstone’s eyes narrowed.
“Your punishment is labour. You’re still useful... for now. But if you don’t achieve the progress your dead team could have made—well, you know the consequences. Dismissed.”
The younger man clenched his fists.
“I’ll prove I’m not your slave.”
Brimstone smirked. “And now you’ve admitted your plan out loud. Brilliant.”
The man stormed out. A medic entered quietly and began treating Bart’s wounds.
As the swelling around his eye eased, Bart could finally focus.
Brimstone remained.
“Who are you?” Bart asked, still restrained, scanning the room for exits.
“Arthur Brimstone. Right-hand to the founder of the Paradox Movement.”
Brimstone sat across from him, calm and calculating.
“What do you want?”
“Your cooperation—and your knowledge. About the Athena’s Cube. About Alice Elizabeth Starling’s ‘death’.”
“I won’t betray her life’s work,” Bart snapped. “And she’s alive.”
Brimstone chuckled. “Oh, please. She died the moment she entered the MAD.”
Bart’s eyes widened. “How do you know about that?”
Brimstone folded his hands.
“MAD—Metaphysical Anamorphic Domain. Where identity collapses. Time folds inward. A paradox given form. Fire without heat. Infinity without motion.”
“You’re wrong,” Bart growled. “We sealed the rift. The energy was unstable—we shut it down.”
Brimstone leaned forward. “Still don’t believe me? Let me show you something.”
He typed into his console. A holographic screen flickered to life.
“This is Dr A.E. Starling, commencing Experiment Sigma-Psi,” she said, visibly exhausted.
“I’m testing how the MAD affects time... and whether paradoxes leave lasting impact. Memory, reality—maybe both.”
She glanced at the lab.
“Few know what I’m doing. I wish I were alone. But company has its perks.”
She programmed the console. The Athena’s Cube, small and dull, expanded geometrically. She placed a neural interface over her head and stepped into it. She vanished. The Cube shrank.
Another clip: Starling, furious, smashing her headgear.
“WHY WON’T IT WORK?!”
Then—hope. She danced around the lab, giddy.
“I finally figured it out. This is going to be a wonderful day!”
She tidied up, then opened a box, staring into it solemnly. Inside: a golden, thorned choker.
“I don’t believe in God. But lucky charms? Sure.”
She fastened the choker around her neck.
“Commencing Experiment Omega-Alpha. This... might be the beginning of the end.”
She stepped into the Cube.
This time, something went wrong.
Two figures entered the lab—unseen, heads obscured. One wore high heels. The other tampered with the console.
The Cube began to pulse, warnings flashing red.
“WARNING! MAD BREACH DETECTED!”
As Starling emerged, she paused mid-step.
“Oh—hello, you two! What are you—?”
The figure pressed a button. Starling screamed, pulled violently back into the Cube. It destabilised. The lab exploded. Access lost.
The footage ended. Bart stared, shell-shocked.
“She was pulled back in,” he whispered.
Brimstone smirked. “So, do you believe me now?”
Bart remained silent.
“You said only she can fix this. You meant a scientist, building time machines, solving equations?”
Brimstone laughed coldly.
“You think this is still about machines and theories? You really don’t understand. She isn’t human anymore. Not your friend. Not Alice. You gave a cosmic entity a free pass into our world.”
He stood. “And we’re paying for it.”
BOOM! The door burst open. Lucy stepped in, coughing through the settling dust. She scanned the room, marched toward Bart, and cut his restraints.
“You’re Dr Buchanan, right?”
“Yes,” Bart croaked.
“Good. We need you. Triage is overwhelmed. Are you fit to work?”
Bart nodded. “I am.”
She gestured to the guard. “Escort him. Now.”
As Bart left, Lucy turned to launch arrows at the Djinn outside. She vaulted into the chaos.
Brimstone called out behind him:
“You still deny the truth... but you’ll see it soon enough.”
ns216.73.216.143da2
