BAB3 -Chapter 12

# Chapter 12: Fallout

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While Xay and his friends were leaving the City of New Meridian, Bethany lay curled up in her bed with the lights off.

She had been like that for days—not sleeping, nor eating.

She thought she had stopped the explosion. She thought that reporting what she overheard to Alan had made a difference.

Bethany had once managed the Quantium Boutique located beneath the penthouse that Xay and the others frequented.

Lexi had her transferred to another store after she flirted a little too aggressively with Xavyer X on the day he awakened.

In retaliation, Bethany joined Humanity First, intending only to protest Sable’s GenoMorph Procedure.

But she soon realized she was in far over her head.

The organization began to fracture. A peaceful candlelit vigil nearly turned into a riot—until it was stopped by a man in the sky.

That man had shown Bethany what true fear felt like. He took control of everyone’s minds and sent them home.

But his intervention only fueled more violence in the end.

Bethany shuddered.

Alan, a kind man from the police, had asked her to become an informant. He told her that reporting Humanity First’s actions could save lives.

But it didn’t.

Watching those people die live on-screen haunted her to her core.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.

She had thought herself a heroine—a master of espionage, silently preventing disaster from the shadows.

But she was none of those things.

On the day of the explosion, it was like she was trapped in a nightmare.

In a panic, Bethany had immediately called Alan while the purple fires were still burning on the screen.

He answered quickly, his voice carrying the same easy, jovial tone it always did.

“Oh, Bethany! Good to hear from you. I hope you’re staying safe,” he’d said.

Her brain nearly broke at the lightness in his voice. “What—what are you talking about? What’s happening? People are dying! I thought we prevented this!”

“Prevented?” Alan laughed. “Oh no, little Bethany. This is only happening because of you.”

Bethany’s heart dropped and her mouth went dry as tears spilled down her cheeks. “What? How is this because of me? Why would you say that?”

Alan laughed again, but this time his light, friendly tone slipped into something far darker.

“Helix Stadium has a lot of security, you see. Reeves could’ve never gotten explosives in there on his own.”

Bethany’s breath hitched and her chest tightened as her eyes squeezed shut. “Please..”

But Alan didn’t stop. “With your helpful little tip, I was able to move some things around in the background—just enough to make all of this possible.”

Bethany collapsed to the ground, sobbing openly. “Please, no..”

“You’ve been such a good girl,” Alan continued, twisting the knife in her gut. “I thank you, my employer thanks you, and I’m sure Reeves thanks you, too.”

She wept, disgusted and horrified as bile rose up in her throat.

“I’ve even started calling this The Bethany Incident,” Alan added, his cheerful tone returning.

Bethany barely even heard Alan’s parting words:

“—Please contact me again if you want to stir up a little more mischief.”

That had been seven days ago. She hadn’t left her apartment since.

She felt sick—disgusted with herself, disgusted with the world, disgusted with Alan.

She’d thought about contacting the authorities, but how could she?

This was the Bethany Incident.

It was her fault that people had died.

She’d been tricked.

Just to keep her mind from collapsing under the weight of guilt, she ran over every single meeting she’d ever had with him.

And now, it all seemed so obvious: Alan had never been part of the police.

She’d never seen a badge. Never seen any ID. They only ever met in that same quiet café—and he was always alone.

She couldn’t believe she’d trusted him so easily.

Looking back, whenever she started to doubt him, he’d ask her to meet.

And somehow, those doubts would just.. vanish.

The thought made her sick to her stomach all over again.

She felt used.

She felt stupid.

She felt disgusting.

She felt useless.

She felt trapped.

Bethany had no idea what to do. She was a criminal now—no, a terrorist.

And Alan knew everything about her: Where she lived; Where she worked; Her schedule; Absolutely everything.

Over the past few days, she’d convinced herself the only reason she was still alive was because he didn’t see her as a threat.

She was certain that if she went to anyone for help, he’d come after her.

She was a loose end.

But.. what if she went to someone strong? Someone who could protect her?

Her eyes flicked to one of the repeating news reels—Xay flying through the chaos on the field, saving people and putting out fires.

Bethany knew he was strong. And she knew where to find him.

But would he help her?

Did she even deserve to be helped?

That thought lingered for a long time, circling her mind over and over.

In the end, it wasn’t logic or courage that pushed her. It was a stupid, ostentatious ad for Quantium Armor.

So, greasy-haired, eyes sunken, and with a blanket thrown over her head, Bethany finally left her apartment.

Being outside felt like stepping into the maw of a beast. The sun was too bright. The city was too loud. Everything felt like it was staring straight through her.

She walked shakily to her cheap, beat-up hover car and collapsed into the backseat, pulling the cover tighter around herself.

Trembling, she set the autopilot for Quantium and tried her best not to hyperventilate.

The flight felt like an eternity.

When she finally landed behind the store, Bethany saw Madam Guinevere being escorted from her Auralis by her assistant, Remington.

Madam Guinevere gasped as Bethany struggled out of the hovercraft.

“Bethany?” she asked, genuine concern flooding her voice. “Oh, dear, you’re shaking like a leaf. Come on—let’s get you inside.”

Just the warmth in her tone sent Bethany spiraling. She couldn’t stop the tears from falling and her legs just gave out from under her.

Remington had to pick her up and carry her as she curled into his chest and sobbed uncontrollably.

Bethany had no idea that Xay had already left for the mountains.

But in that moment, it wasn’t his strength she truly needed—it was simply compassion and support.

She didn’t know it at the time, but there was nowhere better she could have gone.

***

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On the day of the explosion, Alan had been at the stadium in the Owner’s Suite.

Alan was just one of several personas used by Siren. He was a true master of espionage, manipulation, and charm.

His employer, Desmond Knight—owner of the stadium and the Helix Corporation—mostly let Siren run free and do as he pleased.

Desmond funded all of Siren’s dalliances, so long as he reported all the inner workings of the city back to him—well, to Anders mostly, his odd, bespectacled assistant.

And when Siren reported a possible attack by Humanity First, Desmond had been thrilled.

“How interesting!” he’d laughed. “This will even push up the Morwen boy’s little project. I’ll allow it.”

Anders and Siren had arranged for one of the generic brand pilots to be a suicide bomber. Anders even positioned him right next to Xay on the platform as a surprise for Desmond.

He had been thoroughly amused.

The three of them had watched the explosion and the chaos that followed with a sick fascination from high above.

Siren even took Bethany’s call from the owner’s box. Once he was finally done utterly breaking her, Anders spoke up.

“Was that wise?”

Siren shrugged. “She was burned. Wouldn’t be able to get anything useful from her anymore. She’ll probably off herself in a few days anyway.”

He paused, unconcerned.

“And if she doesn’t.. who cares.”

“And what of that Axel Reeves?” Anders asked, adjusting his silver-rimmed glasses.

“Loose cannon,” Siren said, clicking his tongue. “I had to kill him in his sleep. Haven’t decided if I want to keep using the name or not, though.”

Desmond chuckled. “Oh, Siren, you slay me.” He waved a hand dismissively, already moving on as Xay fought to save as many people as he could below.

“Anywho, I imagine you’ll be busy keeping tabs on our young friend from the Project Arc Commune in the coming weeks.”

“Yeah. That Piper is a real piece of work, though,” Siren said, shaking his head. “On my last visit as Ethan, she asked for some pretty aggressive poisons.”

Desmond grinned. “She might be my favorite. A real wild card, that one.”

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Helix doesn’t have anything that can outright kill an Awakened past their first breakthrough, but we can certainly incapacitate them for a while.”

Then, with a dramatic flourish, Desmond spread his arms wide. “Get her what she needs, Anders. And Siren, do make sure she leaves the boy alone until he can accurately predict the Blood Moon.”

“Of course, sir,” Anders answered readily, already shooting off a message.

“A pity I won’t be here to see everything play out live,” Desmond sighed dramatically. “But alas, I must see to matters in the Kingdom of Illantari.”

By that time, guards had secured a safe passage and arrived to escort Desmond out of the stadium. Anders followed close behind.

Siren, meanwhile, slipped into the crowd and vanished under a wholly different guise.

***

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Days later, on the highest floor of the tallest tower in the Financial District, a very powerful man in a spiffy blue suit found himself annoyed.

Virgil Diamond was the head of the Diamond Group, the only member of the Big 5 without a Bloodline.

They had earned their position through financial pedigree, and the mysterious power of psionics.

His family had kept the secrets of psionics hidden for generations—ever since his grandfather returned with images of strange hieroglyphs scrawled across cave walls thousands of miles away.

Before leaving, the old man had even destroyed the cave, ensuring no one else would ever find it.

But now, some random kid had displayed a psionic talent that surpassed even Virgil’s own heir—his only son, Dante Diamond.

And it was live, for the entire city to see.

Naturally, Virgil had his team look into the boy—Xavyer X, some orphan who had surfaced only a few months ago.

He was attending that infuriating man, Emanuel Vermilion’s, academy which limited how Virgil could act.

Not only did the boy have the protection of Cosmos Academy, but he’d also gotten close to the Vermilion princess.

As much as Virgil hated to admit it, the Vermilion Group was not something to trifle with lightly.

Publicly, Virgil could only invite Xavyer over to talk.

But in person, he could rip the boy’s secrets from his weak mind—and no one would be the wiser.

“Lavinia One,” Virgil said, addressing the woman in the ice-blue gown standing beside his desk. “Has the boy responded to the second summons?”

“No, Master,” she replied in a flat, robotic tone. “He has not responded to any communication since the initial rejection.”

Five other women stood silently to the side, identical in build, hair, and attire. Their expressions were blank and unmoving.

All six of them bore a loose resemblance to the large, ornate portrait of a young woman hanging behind Virgil’s desk.

They weren’t machines or constructs, but unfortunate humans whose minds had been altered—all for the crime of somewhat resembling a particular woman.

A vein pulsed in Virgil’s neck. “And what of my sister’s failed twins?”

The twins had been a disappointment to Virgil since birth.

To him, they were just psychic power divided. They could have been great as a single person—but instead, they were born broken and weak.

He’d spent years of their childhood forcibly merging their thoughts and emotions through psychic manipulation, all in a heavy-handed attempt to forge a stronger psionic gift.

When it failed—and they squandered what little talent they had on subconscious drivel—his disgust in them became immeasurable.

He had dismissed and nearly forgotten them entirely. But now it seemed they’d crossed paths with the boy.

So obviously, he demanded answers.

“The retrieval squad has just reported their apartment was empty,” Lavinia Three said in the same flat, emotionless voice.

“Useless,” Virgil spat, the air warping around him as his anger pressed against the room.

The six Lavinias didn’t flinch under his intense psychic barrage, enduring it with the same unblinking, stoic expressions.

After a long breath to steady himself, Virgil gave a single order.

“Scour the city and find them.”

One by one, the six Lavinias vanished, each disappearing in a shimmer of a different movement technique.

As for Xavyer—Virgil didn’t need to act rashly. After all, his own son attended the very same academy.

The boy showed talent with psionics, yes, but he clearly lacked experience.

Turning and glancing at the portrait of Lavinia behind him, Virgil smiled, leaning back in his chair.

He’d always get what he wanted in the end—no matter the method.