Despite the constant dangers surrounding Earth and humanity, humans weren''t a race capable of existing peacefully—not even when faced with common threats. The planet remained deeply divided, and global governments seemed to ensure the public stayed unaware of the larger, more ominous picture beyond Earth. Unless someone attended institutions like Beyonder''s Academy, equipped with exceptional talent or intelligence, most people would never leave this small ball of rock to explore farther than the moon or Mars. Of course, the wealthy could afford to vacation as far out as Jupiter''s moons, but they were the exception, not the rule.


    After Ethan explained the reason for our visit, Caleb visibly curbed his enthusiasm. His gaze shifted between us, measured and curious. "So, what exactly are you looking for?"


    I exchanged a quick glance with Alex before leaning forward, elbows resting on my knees. "We''re trying to trace certain activities that might lead us to the villains'' hideout," I began. "Specifically, we need to track large quantities of food being purchased and transported recently—maybe over the past few months. Also, check for places where a significant amount of energy has been diverted from the electrical grid. Same with water: any reports of drops in water pressure or large quantities being rerouted to unusual locations."


    Caleb raised an eyebrow but didn''t interrupt. A holographic map of the city sprouted from his desk, rotating slowly. I pressed on, gathering steam. "We could also use satellite heat maps of the city showing unusual movement in previously abandoned underground areas. And look for activity in empty or run-down warehouses and factories—anywhere that could be used to cage people."


    "You''re assuming they''re keeping them all in one place," Caleb mused, already typing. The map highlighted various sectors as his fingers flew across the keyboard. "Smart villains would split them up. Harder to track, easier to control."


    "They''re not that smart," Alex cut in.


    "You don''t know that." Caleb argued.


    "If we can gather all that information," I concluded, "I''m confident we''ll find some clue about where the villains are hiding those four hundred civilians."


    "You guys are not messing around, are you?" Caleb exclaimed, pushing back from his desk. His chair hit a stack of old computer parts, sending them clattering to the floor. He didn''t even flinch at the noise, too focused on what I''d just proposed. "I want you to know that what you''re asking isn''t easy. I''m not the Oracle or Private, like them I don''t have the meta nature to control information. It''s a lot of data to dig through. So, I''ll have to break into and search through so many systems. The process is both time-consuming and resource-intensive."


    I shrugged nonchalantly, exchanging a quick glance with Alex. The slight nod he gave me was barely perceptible, "Alex, my friend here, is very rich," I said with a knowing smile, gesturing toward Alex. "If you do this job for us, I''m sure he can help with anything you might need. Let''s not forget who we are—there are things we could help you with."


    "Like getting your sister into the Interplanetary defence advanced program?" Ethan added quietly, making Caleb''s head snap up. "Yeah, we know about her application. Her test scores are impressive, but sometimes talent needs... a little push in the right direction."


    "It''s important, Caleb. Hundreds of people went missing during the train attack. If they''re alive, we need to find them."


    Caleb rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his gaze drifting to the array of monitors flickering on the wall. He appeared to weigh his options for a moment before nodding. “Well, you two are Ethan’s friends,” he said, a faint grin forming. “So of course, I won’t refuse you guys.”


    "Alright," he continued, pulling up what looked like city infrastructure maps. "Food, electricity, water, heat maps, and abandoned properties. That''s a lot of angles to cover, but it''s doable." He turned to one of his many monitors, the screen''s reflection dancing in his glasses. "Give me a few minutes. My systems are linked to some unofficial sources—don''t ask me where I got them—but they should help narrow things down."


    In thirty minutes, slowly, the data began pouring in spreadsheets, Caleb muttered under his breath, his voice taking on that focused tone I''d heard him use during critical missions. "Let''s start with the basics. Food first. Large orders mean supply chains, and supply chains mean invoices, deliveries, and payment trails." A new window popped up, showing what looked like encrypted shipping manifests. "Even if people try to stay hidden, moving that much food leaves a footprint. Give me some time to scrape illegal data."


    As I silently watched Caleb work, I couldn''t help but wonder if this kind of work was just a hobby for him or if it was somehow tied to his meta-nature.


    "Got something," he muttered, his voice tight with concentration. One of the screens slowly began to populate with charts, invoices, and maps.


    Caleb scanned through them, his eyes darting across the data with inhuman speed. "Interesting. Looks like a few warehouses on the city''s outskirts have been receiving consistent shipments of non-perishables. The kind you''d stockpile if you were planning to go blind..." He paused, jaw clenching. "Or feeding a lot of people."


    Alex leaned forward. “Addresses?”


    "Here, here, and here." Caleb clicked, marking them on a digital map. Red pins dropped onto the screen, forming a rough triangle in the industrial sector. "Notice anything weird about the pattern?"


    I stepped closer, squinting at the display. "They''re all equidistant from the train attack site."


    "Exactly," Caleb confirmed, a grim satisfaction in his voice. "These bastards must have planned this well in advance." His fingers flew across the keyboard with renewed intensity. "Electricity next. High energy consumption isn''t hard to track, especially if it''s concentrated in areas that don''t normally require much. Let''s see..."


    Another screen displayed a grid of the city, lighting up with power usage data.


    “Bingo,” Caleb said, grinning. “There’s a spike in the industrial district. It’s been consistent for weeks. Way too much power for a few old warehouses.”


    I nodded, my mind racing as pieces started falling into place. “What about water?”


    Caleb adjusted his search parameters, pulling up reports from the city''s water management system. A 3D model of the underground infrastructure materialized, with certain pipes pulsing an angry red. "Pressure drops in specific areas... Ah, got it. Looks like there''s been unusual activity near an old factory by the docks. Increased flow, unaccounted for, and no permits filed." His voice dropped lower. "Someone''s diverting water, and they''re doing a piss-poor job of hiding it."


    He paused, glancing at me. “You think they’re caging people underground?”


    “It’s a possibility,” I replied. “The heat maps might confirm it.”


    Caleb switched to a satellite feed, it took him some time to get through it, but soon we had thermal data onto the city map. He highlighted the locations in the south district, and my heart rate spiked. "These spots here—abandoned warehouses and tunnels. Looks like a lot of movement in and out, especially at night." He pulled up a time-lapse, showing heat signatures moving in patterns too regular to be random. "And look at this – the heat signatures are clustered, packed together tight.


    “And the most likely spot?” I asked.


    Caleb zoomed in on one particular location, his energy drink forgotten mid-sip. "If I had to bet my sister''s college fund, it''s here."


    The screen showed a sprawling warehouse complex near an abandoned agriculture district. "Matches everything you''re looking for—food deliveries, power draw, water diversion, and thermal activity." His finger traced a circle around the area. "Plus, it''s got those underground tunnels I mentioned. Perfect for hiding people who don''t want to be found."


    Alex and I exchanged a glance. We''d worked together long enough that I could read the mix of hope and skepticism in his eyes. This felt too clean, too neat.


    "You''ve done it, Caleb," Ethan said, clapping him on the shoulder with enough force to make Caleb''s chair spin slightly. "This could be it."


    But something wasn''t sitting right. In less than thirty minutes, we''d managed to gather a substantial amount of data and pinpoint a potential location for the criminals. It seemed almost too easy. Like following a trail of breadcrumbs that someone wanted us to find. I couldn''t believe villains would be so careless, and it baffled me that the government had made so little progress. Hell, the train incident was still plastered all over TV – my mom called me every night asking if I''d heard anything new. It was like a wildfire that refused to burn out. So why was there such a delay?


    Caleb leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk of pride on his face. “Just doing my part,” he said.


    Alex placed a hand on my shoulder. “What’s wrong?” he asked.


    “Nothing,” I replied, shaking my head. But after a moment, I sighed. “I just feel like something’s off. Suspicious.”


    “What do you mean?” Alex pressed.


    “We might not be approaching this correctly,” I said, my tone thoughtful. “If we could piece this much together in such a short time, how has no one else figured it out? And the supers—are all of them so incompetent that they can’t put two and two together?”


    A tense silence settled between us, the question hanging unanswered.


    "You''re right to be suspicious," Caleb said, reaching for another energy drink.


    "But people, the general populace — are very stupid. Trust me, I see it every day in their search histories. They ignore the obvious signs, too busy searching for answers in the dark when the truth is right in front of them."


    "Like how everyone freaked out about the new meta-regulation bill last month, but nobody noticed when they quietly passed that surveillance expansion act."


    "As for governments, supers, whoever—they''re often their own worst enemies," Caleb continued, his tone carrying the weight of someone who''d seen too much through his screens. "We have three official government agencies in play, and I guarantee you they''re all working the same case without talking to each other. Probably got their heads so far up their own bureaucratic asses they wouldn''t notice if the villains posted their address on social media."


    "The Watchmen—at the federal level, they gather intel and monitor threats. Then there''s the City Protectors, your basic law enforcement with some extra muscle, handling minor incidents and local crimes. And finally, the White Knights—the elite squad meant to take on the big threats."


    He tapped on the keyboard, pulling up profiles of each group. His monitor was filled with official logos and mission statements that looked like they''d been designed by the same marketing team. "The problem is, they don''t work together."


    "The Protectors are spread too thin—I mean, last week they had Silver Strike chasing down purse snatchers while a meta-powered gang robbed the First National." He pulled up a news clip showing a frustrated-looking hero in a silver suit talking to reporters. "The Knights are too focused on global-level threats, probably still obsessing over that alien signal from Jupiter that turned out to be space junk. And the Watchmen?"


    He laughed. "They''re so busy spying on china and russia that they forget to act on the intel they gather. Who knows, they might have had intel about the train attack three days before it happened."


    Alex, who’d been quiet until now, frowned. "So, what are you saying? That government is useless?"


    Caleb chuckled, shaking his head. "Not useless. Just inefficient. And while they''re busy tripping over themselves, private organizations and superhero teams are doing the rest of the work."


    He tossed the can at the recycling bin, missing completely. "But, honestly, what can you expect from them? My cousin applied to the City Protectors last year. You know what they tested her on? Social media management and PR crisis handling. Not, you know, actual protecting."


    "Superheroes these days aren''t what they used to be," he continued, pulling up a trending video of a recent rescue operation. The camera spent more time on the hero''s face than the actual rescue. "It''s all about who can make the biggest splash. Forget heroics; It''s not about saving the day anymore—it''s about who can trend on social media fastest. Hell, my sister''s high school has a ''Hero Influencer'' club now."


    "The real problem is that most superhero teams nowadays," he gestured at a series of team photos, each more posed than the last, "well—they''re just young teenagers, ambitious, and hungry for recognition, with flashy, somewhat useful powers. They''re like toxic kpop bands from Korea—running around the city all day, chasing fame and recognition. I honestly wonder if they even make any money."


    Caleb pulled up some financial reports. "Actually, I know they don''t. Most of them are living off sponsorship deals and energy drink commercials."


    He gestured to the screen, where a flashy website plastered with young superheroes in dramatic poses filled the monitor. Their vibrant, neon-themed suits screamed for attention, complete with QR codes linking to their merchandise stores. A video auto-played showing a team taking selfies with civilians they''d just rescued from a burning building. Caleb snorted. "See? Becoming a hero these days is less about saving people and more about a quick fame scheme. Last week, I watched the ''Neon Knights''—yeah, that''s really their name—stop a bank robbery. Know what they did first? Set up ring lights for their livestream."If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Caleb clicked through several profiles of the super’s team. The blue light from his monitors reflected off his glasses as he pulled up a particularly flashy webpage. "Take the most popular group right now: NovaLine. God, their merch sales alone could probably fund a city."


    "Their concept is space, and their team consists of five members, all with solid powers: Starstrike, their leader, has the light-speed thing going – though between you and me, I''ve analyzed their footage, and it''s more like really fast jogging with good special effects."


    He clicked through their profile photos. "Orbit does gravity manipulation, which is actually pretty impressive when she''s not using it for their signature floating group poses. Flare brings the heat – literally burned down three buildings last month trying to get the perfect action shot. Comet leaves pretty light trails while teleporting, though it''s only a few feet max. Mostly used for their dance routines, if we''re being honest. And Nebula?" He snorted. "Makes these aesthetic force fields that look perfect for social media clips. At least those are actually useful in a fight."


    “They’ve got this whole futuristic, neon-aesthetic vibe going on. Dynamic choreography, dramatic poses—the works.”


    I squinted at the screen, noting the team''s striking designs. It felt more like I was browsing a music band''s fan page than a superhero registry. The ''Shop Now'' button was bigger than their emergency contact information.


    "They''re all sixteen," Caleb added, minimizing a pop-up for their upcoming fan meet. "But their reputation''s rock solid. In just the last week, they''ve taken down more than a dozen villains." He paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Though, I think most of those ''villains'' were probably staged.


    Caleb continued his monologue about the various superhero groups. "Every district has their stars," he explained, scrolling through an endless parade of young faces and flashy costumes. "It''s like high school cliques, but with super powers and PR teams."


    "Take Apex in the North District," he said, pulling up another profile. "They''re basically the jocks of the superhero world. Their leader, Strike, has super speed and reflexes – which he mostly uses to photobomb other heroes'' action shots. Then there''s Jumper, who can leap incredible distances and has the agility of an acrobat. Girl''s got a whole makeup line now, if you can believe it. Ironheart boasts super strength and a degree of invulnerability, while Pulse controls kinetic energy to boost the team''s abilities. Lastly, Glitch can temporarily disrupt enemy powers or tech – though lately she''s been more focused on disrupting social media algorithms to boost their content."


    "Their whole vibe is bold and confident—they love dramatic visuals and power poses." He showed us their latest campaign. "They''re sponsored by six different energy drink companies.


    Ethan leaned forward, frowning. "I remember when Ironheart first started. She actually cared about helping people. Now look at her – hawking protein shakes and doing superhero workout videos."


    Caleb shifted to another profile. "Now, over in the West District, you''ve got Radi8. They''re all about teamwork and unity, aiming to inspire hope – and sell friendship bracelets, apparently."


    The screen filled with pastel colors and motivational quotes. "Their leader, Glow, emits blinding light and can heal minor wounds. Mostly paper cuts at their autograph sessions, these days. Spectrum creates small illusions, while Dynamo uses kinetic energy for controlled, non-harmful explosions – perfect for their concert-style public appearances. Horizon bends and manipulates light waves, and Shine deflects energy and creates reflective force fields. They''re more subtle compared to other teams, but their teamwork makes them stand out. Plus their merch actually looks decent."


    "Then there''s StormSix from the South District." Caleb clicked again, and the screen darkened dramatically. "They''ve got a dark, mysterious aesthetic—modern-day goths, basically. Think Hot Topic meets Justice League." He pulled up their latest photo shoot. "Skyline, their leader, can fly at incredible speeds and manipulate air currents. He''s got a solid reputation and might even make it into Beyonder''s Academy – if he can stop posting brooding rooftop selfies long enough to study. Frost creates ice shields and weapons, while Static discharges bursts of electricity. Viper delivers venomous, paralyzing attacks, and Eclipse can obscure themselves or others like a solar eclipse. They play heavily into the whole brooding, enigmatic vibe."


    "I actually saw them in action last week," Alex admitted.


    He scrolled to another team. "Lastly, we have Strik3rs from the East District, the hotbed of violent crime. These kids... they''ve actually got something real going on." His tone shifted, becoming more respectful. "Their leader, Chronos, manipulates time to increase speed or create stasis. Lost his sister in a gang shooting last year – maybe that''s why they take this more seriously than the others."


    The profile pictures were notably less polished than the other teams''. "Slipstream teleports short distances by bending space – saved my cousin once during a meta-gang raid. Fray unravels the structural integrity of objects over time, while Thornspire generates fast-growing, thorn-covered vines. Impulse projects short bursts of telekinetic energy. They''re gritty and efficient, but being in the East District means they''ve got their hands full." He pulled up their activity log. "Three shootings just this week. No cameras, no poses – just work."


    Caleb leaned back, his chair creaking. "These four or five teams are the most famous right now, but there are at least two dozen others out there competing for villains, fame, money, and reputation." He gestured at a wall of smaller profile pictures. "The thing is, most of these groups don''t last. Every year, some teams die off due to dangerous incidents – like the Starbursts last month, total wipeout during what should''ve been a simple bank robbery." His voice caught slightly. "And others break up because they can''t secure enough funding. Superhero work doesn''t come cheap—there''s equipment to buy, costumes to maintain, weapons, information, and even a base to keep running. Medical bills too, though nobody likes to talk about those."


    He finished with a shrug, clearly unfazed by the churn of heroes and teams.


    In just a short time, he had bombarded me with more information than I’d ever thought to gather. I could only shake my head, trying to process it all.


    Am I getting old? I wondered. I hadn’t realized there were so many superhero groups, nor that most of them weren’t even adults. The whole thing felt chaotic.


    Caleb must have noticed my confusion because he addressed it with a shrug."Most adults work directly with the government," he explained, pulling up the more official-looking pages. "They''re smarter. Steady paycheck, health insurance, retirement plan—why risk your neck freelance when you can have benefits? These kids though..." He shook his head. "They''re reckless and idealistic—they''re the ones who jump headfirst into this circus. Half of them think they''re going to revolutionize heroism or something."


    "Been there," Alex muttered, absently rubbing his left arm.


    I shot him a curious glance.


    "Still," Caleb continued, "most of the heavy lifting is actually done by the City Protectors or the White Knights. These teenage superhero groups might be flashy, but they still have to report to the Watchmen and follow clear instructions before taking any action. So, they''re not entirely running wild." He paused, then added with a grimace, "Though some of them try. Last week the NovaLine kids tried to take on a Class-3 threat without clearance. Nearly leveled a city block trying to get the perfect action shot."


    Caleb suddenly shifted his gaze to Alex, who had been unusually quiet for a while. A mischievous chuckle escaped him, as if struck by a particularly funny memory.


    "Speaking of which," he said, leaning back in his chair with an all-too-pleased smirk, "Alex still has a pretty big fan base. He was a pretty notorious villain just a year ago."


    My head snapped toward Alex so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.


    "Wait—what?"


    Alex groaned, rubbing his face with both hands as if physically trying to scrub away the embarrassment. "Don’t bring that up," he muttered, his voice muffled. "Those were rough days."


    "Rough days?" Caleb repeated, feigning mock surprise. "Buddy, you were on wanted lists. There were forums dedicated to tracking your movements. People still talk about you like some kind of urban legend."


    Alex let out a long, suffering sigh. "I swear to God, Caleb—"


    I stared at him, my mind scrambling to piece this together. Alex? A villain?


    The thought was almost laughable. The Alex I knew was sharp, resourceful, and maybe a little too laid-back at times, but he wasn’t the type to go around terrorizing the city. What could’ve possibly pushed him to join a villain gang?


    I opened my mouth to ask, but the way his shoulders tensed, the way he refused to meet my eyes, made me pause.


    He wasn’t willing to talk about it.


    At least, not now.


    I let the question settle in the back of my mind, a lingering thread I’d have to pull at later.


    Still, I couldn’t resist one comment.


    "So, what was your villain name?"


    Alex groaned louder. "I’m not answering that."


    Caleb, of course, had no such reservations.


    "Oh, it was—"


    "CALEB, I SWEAR—"


    "Fine, fine." Caleb held up his hands in mock surrender but shot me a sly grin. "But if you ever wanna know, I might be persuaded for the right price."


    Anyway, Looking at all this data, the city’s superhero ecosystem began to take clearer shape in my mind. It was a bizarre blend of old-school heroics and modern celebrity culture.


    Part of me wanted to dismiss it all as a flashy sideshow, but the takedown numbers didn’t lie. These groups were making a measurable impact. Still, I couldn’t help feeling that Caleb was exaggerating some of his points with flawed reasoning. Sure, kids could be reckless, but no one willingly threw their life into danger without some deeper reason. If these kids were just brain-rotted fame-chasers, that would be another story entirely.


    Finally, I felt like I had a handle on why the city’s investigation into the train incident was dragging.


    It wasn’t just incompetence—it was a toxic mix of disorganization and self-absorption. The people we relied on to protect us were either buried under mountains of red tape, too focused on their own agendas, or too inexperienced to handle something as large-scale and dangerous as the train incident.


    It was a mess.


    A mess that, apparently, we’d have to deal with ourselves.


    "So, are we going to check out the warehouse?" Caleb asked, practically vibrating with excitement.


    I turned to him, raising an eyebrow. He looked ready to leap out of his chair, his fingers twitching like he was already running through scenarios in his head.


    I wasn’t sure he fully understood what he’d be getting into—especially if we ran into something like the bloody demon rats again.


    "It’s dangerous," Ethan interjected before I could respond. "You shouldn’t even think about it. I’m not going either, so you should stay put." His tone was firm, the kind of voice that brooked no argument.


    I nodded in agreement. "This isn’t some digital deep dive, Caleb. If we run into something nasty, you won’t be able to ctrl+z your way out of it."


    Caleb scoffed, leaning back in his chair like we were the ones being ridiculous. "Why do you think I helped you guys?" His voice sharpened, frustration creeping in. "I want to be part of whatever mission you’re on. I didn’t go digging just to be left behind."


    Ethan ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose like he was already exhausted by the conversation. "Yeah? And what exactly do you bring to the table in a fight?"


    Caleb crossed his arms, smirking. "Information is power, my friend."


    Ethan rolled his eyes. "Not when something is actively trying to eat you."


    "Look, I get it," Caleb continued, unbothered by Ethan’s skepticism. "You think I’m just some nerd who never leaves his cave. And maybe that’s mostly true. But I’ve been keeping tabs on things like this for years. You need someone who knows how to track patterns, find hidden connections. Besides, you’ll need eyes outside while you’re in there."


    I frowned, considering. He wasn’t wrong. Having someone feeding us real-time intel while we were on-site could be useful.


    Ethan, however, was less impressed. "And you’d do this from where, exactly? That sad excuse for a couch?"


    "I have a van." Caleb shot back, looking almost offended.


    Ethan blinked. "You have a van?"


    "Yes, Ethan, I have a van. What, you think I just sit here in my little hacker cave all day?"


    Ethan and I exchanged glances.


    "Yes," we both said in unison.


    Caleb groaned. "Unbelievable. Look, the point is, I can help. I’ll stay outside, keep comms open, feed you any data you need in real-time. You need me on this."


    Now I had a headache.


    I met Caleb’s gaze directly, making sure my tone was measured but firm.


    "Caleb, you need to understand something," I began. "This isn’t like what you see on TV. We were literally besieged by tens of thousands of bloody rats. Their teeth can shred iron like paper. We’re not talking about one enemy or even a dozen—we’re talking about a swarm of killing machines coming at you from every direction."


    I leaned forward slightly, ensuring every word landed.


    "There’s no escape. The only path is death—and that’s being eaten alive by those hellish creatures."


    Caleb’s smirk faltered, just for a second.


    Good.


    I didn’t care if he wanted to prove himself, didn’t care if he had some kind of hero complex. But if he ended up dead because of me, I’d carry that weight. And I wasn’t about to let that happen.


    "Guys, guys," Caleb said, waving a hand dismissively. "I’ve seen photos of those things on the internet. I think I can handle them with the gear I’ve got."


    Ethan let out a strangled noise, somewhere between disbelief and barely-contained rage. "Did you just—did you just say ‘photos on the internet’ like that qualifies as combat experience?"


    I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temples. "Caleb—"


    But before I could get another word in, he was already on his feet, striding confidently toward a tall cupboard in the corner of the room. With a dramatic flourish, he swung the doors open.


    I blinked.


    Inside was an arsenal of high-tech weaponry. Plasma rifles, blasters, and other advanced firearms gleamed under the dim light, their polished surfaces practically radiating his misplaced confidence.


    Ethan’s mouth actually dropped open. "You have—what the hell—how do you have all this?"


    Caleb grinned like a kid on Christmas. "A little collecting. A little trading. A little ‘fell off the back of a truck’ situation."


    Ethan turned to me, utterly exasperated. "Why do I feel like we should be reporting this to someone?"


    I barely heard him. My jaw tightened as I stared at the collection.


    This guy is serious.


    But seriousness didn’t necessarily mean preparedness.


    And then it hit me—an uncomfortable realization settling like a lead weight in my stomach.


    Guys like Caleb.


    The ones who overestimate their abilities. The ones who think having the best gear makes them invincible. The ones who assume they’ll be the exception, that they won’t be the ones who freeze up, who panic, who hesitate at the worst possible moment.


    They’re always the first to die in zombie apocalypse movies.