"—we're receiving multiple unverified reports that what you're seeing on your screen is not a visual effect—"
The broadcast cut briefly, then resumed with heavier static.
"—viewers are advised, this footage may be disturbing—"
The screen shifted.
Shaky footage.
Captured on a phone.
A man stood in the middle of the street—
Flames wrapped around his arms like they were alive.
Cars burned around him.
People screamed.
Then—
Another figure.
Standing firm.
Unmoving.
Taking the hits.
Refusing to fall.
The camera zoomed in slightly.
Someone gasped behind it.
"Oh my God—he's still standing—!"
The footage jumped again—
Now showing a car being lifted—
Thrown—
Crashing into another with a deafening impact.
"Authorities have yet to release an official statement," the reporter continued, voice strained but controlled. "But the question on everyone's mind remains—"
A pause.
"Who are they?"
Another clip rolled.
Different angle.
Closer.
More chaotic.
"Are these individuals connected to the incident that occurred just days ago—what is now being referred to as the Shift Event?"
The name lingered.
Uncertain.
But already sticking.
Experts appeared briefly on screen.
Arguing.
Speculating.
"This could be a form of rapid human evolution—"
"No, that's impossible, there's no scientific—"
"Then explain what we're seeing!"
The broadcast cut again.
"Until further clarification is provided," the reporter continued, "citizens are advised to remain indoors and avoid the affected areas—"
The screen went to a looping clip.
Fire.
Impact.
Screams.
And one question repeated across every channel:
What are they becoming?
Inside a moving SUV—
Silence.
Heavy.
Measured.
Sir Ferguson watched the screen mounted in front of him.
Not reacting.
Not speaking.
Just… observing.
His secretary sat beside him, tablet in hand.
"They're calling it the Shift Event now," she said.
No response.
"The footage has spread globally," she continued. "We're seeing spikes across every platform. News outlets are picking it up faster than we can respond."
Still nothing.
"…Sir, we need to release a statement."
That got his attention.
Just slightly.
"No."
The word was calm.
But final.
His secretary frowned.
"Sir, with all due respect—if we don't address this now, speculation will—"
"Spiral?"
He turned his head slightly, finally looking at her.
"It already has."
She hesitated.
"If we speak now," he continued, "we confirm two things."
A pause.
"That we know what this is."
Another pause.
"And that we've lost control of it."
Silence filled the car again.
"We don't know enough," Ferguson said, turning back to the screen. "And until we do…"
His voice lowered slightly.
"…we observe."
The SUV continued forward.
Through a city that no longer felt the same.
Morning came.
But it didn't feel like morning.
The sky was the same.
The streets looked normal.
People moved like they always did.
But something was off.
Kade felt it the moment he opened his eyes.
He reached for his phone almost immediately.
Notifications flooded his screen.
Messages.
Missed calls.
Links.
He tapped one.
The video played.
Fire.
Destruction.
People running.
Kade sat up slowly.
Eyes locked on the screen.
"…That's real."
There was no disbelief in his voice.
Just… certainty.
He watched another.
Then another.
Each one clearer than the last.
Each one worse.
"…It's the same thing…"
He leaned forward slightly.
Heart beating a little faster now.
"…The Shift…"
His grip tightened.
Three days ago—
He had been there.
At the center of something just as impossible.
He exhaled slowly.
Then stood up.
He couldn't sit here.
Not today.
The clinic smelled the same.
Clean.
Sharp.
Familiar.
Kade helped his mother inside carefully.
"Easy… I got you."
She nodded, but her grip on his arm didn't loosen.
Not even a little.
Her eyes moved constantly.
Watching everything.
"You saw the news?" she asked quietly.
Kade paused.
Then nodded.
"…Yeah."
Her expression tightened.
"It's the same thing, isn't it?"
Kade didn't answer immediately.
"…I don't know," he said finally.
But they both knew.
"Hey."
A voice pulled their attention.
Elena approached, a soft smile on her face.
"Good morning."
"Morning," Kade replied.
A bit too quickly.
A bit too aware.
"I'll take her from here," Elena said gently.
Kade nodded.
"Thanks… for everything."
She smiled.
"Of course."
There was a brief moment.
Awkward.
Quiet.
Then Kade stepped back.
"I'll be back later," he said to his mom.
She nodded.
Still watching him like she might lose him again if she blinked.
He turned.
And left.
Work didn't feel like work anymore.
It felt heavier.
Quieter.
Everyone knew.
They didn't need to say it.
A small gathering formed.
Outside.
Near a row of fresh graves.
Too many.
Kade stood among them.
Silent.
The names blurred together.
But one stood out.
The man.
The one who had glitched.
Kade's jaw tightened slightly.
He could still see it.
Clear as day.
The shaking.
The distortion.
The fear.
"Go…"
The memory hit him hard.
"…run…"
Kade closed his eyes briefly.
He didn't run.
And now—
He was here.
Alive.
While others weren't.
His chest felt tight.
"That could've been me…"
The thought settled deep.
Heavy.
Unshakable.
Back across the city—
Inside a secured emergency wing—
Terry lay still.
Machines beeped steadily around him.
Controlled.
Precise.
His body was covered in injuries.
Burn marks.
Fractures.
Bruising.
But he was alive.
Barely.
Sir Ferguson stood behind a glass panel, watching.
"…That's him?" his secretary asked.
Ferguson nodded.
"Found under debris," she continued. "Collapsed structures. Vehicles. He should be dead."
"But he's not," Ferguson said quietly.
His eyes shifted to another screen.
CCTV footage.
Recovered.
Damaged.
But usable.
The fight played out.
Terry—
Standing against them.
Holding them back.
Taking hit after hit.
Not running.
Not breaking.
Ferguson watched closely.
Then—
He chuckled.
Low.
Quiet.
"…Interesting."
His secretary glanced at him.
"He wasn't trying to escape," Ferguson continued. "He was trying to stop them."
A pause.
"…We might have someone on our side."
Elsewhere in the facility—
The head of security stood rigid.
Arms crossed.
Jaw tight.
The door opened.
Ferguson stepped in.
For a moment—
Neither spoke.
Then—
"You should be dead," the officer said.
Ferguson raised a brow slightly.
"I thought about that," the man continued. "A lot."
His voice wasn't loud.
But it carried weight.
"My daughter's birthday is next week."
Silence.
"I almost missed it again."
Ferguson didn't interrupt.
Didn't justify.
Didn't explain.
The man stepped forward.
Reached into his pocket.
And placed a folded paper on the desk.
"My resignation."
Ferguson looked at it.
Then back at him.
"You're walking away?" he asked.
The man let out a dry laugh.
"Walking away?"
He shook his head.
"I almost lost my life yesterday to something you can't even explain."
A pause.
"I'm not trained for that."
His eyes hardened slightly.
"No one is."
Ferguson studied him.
But didn't stop him.
The man turned.
Walked to the door.
Paused.
Just for a second.
"…Fix it."
Then he left.
The door closed softly behind him.
Ferguson stood there.
Still.
Then exhaled slowly.
"…Noted."
His phone rang.
Sharp.
Sudden.
He pulled it out.
Checked the screen.
His expression didn't change.
But his eyes did.
He answered the call.
"…Mr. President."
Silence followed.