ncrete space, measuring four hundred square meters, housed the ghosts he'd brought back from Fallujah, Iraq. On the walls, memories of milita

sert sun and the terrors of the night. Now, at 3:15 AM, he sat in his chair, feeling the cold metal of the Colt M1911 pr

riend's construction company, hours of walking on the Brooklyn Bridge, attempts to exhau

the ghost

ndow was open, and the November cold of New York was pouring in. Paranoia... a classic symptom

ere filled not with fear, but with deep sorrow. Marcus had questioned the orders, hesitant to fire. But the others... the others hadn't hesi

ess of the room. His fingers danced on the trigger. A simple movement: pul

ensed. His heart was like a bird beating in his chest.

left years ago. Chloe was a doctor. A soft-spoken, patie

Chloe," he

nt. A fraction of a second more p

:1

ent, the world

were going up in an elevator very quickly. Then, vibration. The entire building seemed to vibrate at an atomic lev

ulled th

It didn

of the room and fired. This time, the gun fired. Instinctively, he lowered the gun, scanning

pale ghost of Ahmed, now even paler. He see

he floor. He reached out his hand. Then... t

, he

e red-hot casin

eamed, throwing the gun into the air. The gun fell to the concret

the casing with his other hand to drop it, but when he touched it, that hand also burn

e stammered, his voice fil

wasn't burned or melted. Had he dreamed? Or hallucinated... He wouldn't be surprised... He had lost hi

r the water. The pain subsided a little, but that strange, deep ache continued. He looked in th

was not a dream, a hallucination, o

atic electricity; an electrical charge that made his hair stand on end. He looked out the window.

ppened. And it wasn'

r, more real. And he raised his index finger, pointing at Marcus's

rds the ghost. "What? W

as always. He just kept

a circle... An ancient symbol? He remembered seeing something similar during a pro

en, th

ithin. He wanted to move some

the table. He focused. He thought of the b

ttle t

. This couldn't be. It was

sed mor

e of the table, hovered in the air, and flew

broken. The bottle fell halfway to the floor, onto the rug, didn't break at f

were shaking - this time from fear. He was having trouble breathing.

inside, he felt a strange power. Just like feeling his muscles, but this

his head. "This isn't r

, with his trembling hand, answered the phone, brought it to h

at this hour. My name is Anton. I want to t

took the gun in his hand. "What? What abiliti

ide your power..." Anton's voice was oily, persuasive. "Let's

one hu

room. This had to be a dream. A nightmare. But the pain in his palm, th

t him. His eyes were fixed on the window, on the nigh

ds. They looked normal. But as if, inside, there was a sleepi

eats. Anton... was definitely a threat. A physica

life had suddenly become terrifyingly and fascinatingly complicated. He hadn't been able to end his life

ke a decision. Either he would accept this power - this madness, whatever it was - and fa

in his hand, he literally had a new power. And power alway

a different meaning for him. How many more people were experiencing the same thing among these lights? How many people

l Park

power was still there. It was frightening. But at the same time... it see

into the darkness

w fire was burning, dangerous, uncertain, but proving th

inexplicably, the tar