Act II – Chapter 5
Gwen threw herself straight into Leo's chest.
He barely had time to open his arms to catch her, the breath knocked out of him.
"Uh… Gwen?…"
She didn't answer.
She stayed pressed against him, ear against his chest.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
He's alive. He's alive. He's alive!! her mind screamed.
Her throat tightened, her eyes stung. Then, slowly, doubt crept in.
Her expression shifted.
She suddenly stepped back two paces, hands already on her knives. In a fraction of a second, she had them leveled at him, every muscle tensed.
"Who are you?" she asked, voice shaking but hard. "I saw Leo die in front of me. There's no way he survived."
Leo stared at her, genuinely lost.
"I thought you were the one who died…" he replied.
"Answer one of my questions," Gwen cut in, tone sharp.
"Uh… alright."
"What's your sister's name?"
Leo hesitated for a fraction of a second—more because of the memory than the answer.
"Hm… she… she doesn't have a name."
Gwen tightened her grip on the knives.
"All the survivors of the Zero Program have no name. You could have that information by chance," she replied. "Second question."
She shifted to the side, dropping into a stance.
"Why is my name Gwen?"
Leo let out a long sigh.
He leaned back against his bike, feeling the warmth of the engine still radiating through the frame. His dreadlocks fell over his eyes; when he lifted his head again, he'd recovered his usual calm.
When he spoke, there was no joke, no detour.
"When Noah, the leader of the NoName organization, saved you from the massacre you all call the Zero Program purge, there were fifty kids in that program. Including my sister."
He glanced at Gwen, still aiming at him, then went on.
"Out of the fifty, Noah managed to rescue thirteen. He scattered them all over the world thanks to his ability. You never told me every detail, but… even after he saved you, you slipped into a coma. And when you woke up… you were terrified of the doctors who'd just saved your life."
Gwen's knife trembled slightly.
Her grip, however, stayed firm.
"You locked yourself in the web for years," Leo continued. "No body, no real contact. You got lost in accounts, myths, stories… And while asking AIs about the legend of Arthur, you decided to call yourself Gwen. After Gwenhwyfar, Arthur's princess."
Tears welled up in Gwen's eyes.
"Why?" she asked, voice breaking.
Leo met her gaze head‑on.
"Because you always compared me to Arthur," he answered calmly. "When you were following my 'adventures' in the streets, you said I was trying to bring people together while nobody took me seriously. I inspired you—that's what you told me."
Gwen shook her head as tears spilled freely now.
"No… you saved me," she corrected.
Her knife slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground with a small, dry clack.
In the distance, sirens began to wail.
Blue and red lights drew closer, reflecting in the shattered windows of the burning complex.
Leo swung a leg back over his motorcycle, kicked the stand up, then held a hand out to her without hesitation.
"Coming?" he asked simply.
Gwen looked at his hand, then at his face.
She made her decision faster than lightning.
"…Yeah," she said, sliding her fingers into his.
She climbed on behind him.
Leo glanced at Gwen's plushie lying on the ground, slightly blackened by dust and ash.
"You're not taking it?" he asked.
"I don't need it anymore," she replied.
She gently rested her head between his shoulder blades, holding onto him tight.
"Your call," Leo said.
He started the engine.
The bike roared off into the night just as the first police cars arrived.
The flashing lights streaked past them, washing the road in blue and red.
They didn't say a word.
This moment didn't need words.
Later, the police filed their report on‑site.
Ash, twisted metal, bodies, shell casings, the smell of burnt everything.
"Inspector? What do you make of it?" an officer asked, notebook in hand.
A young man of about twenty‑two scanned the scene. He lifted a finger as if to ask for silence.
"Inspector?" his colleague repeated.
The young man stepped forward without answering, heading toward something the others had missed.
On the ground, half wedged between two chunks of debris, lay a small plush with dreads, scorched on one side.
Nobody paid it any mind.
Nobody except him.
He crouched down, picked it up carefully, examining it with a puzzled look.
"…Well now. Interesting," he murmured.
"Inspector Enzo Alvarez!" his colleague insisted. "Did you hear what I said?"
Enzo turned slowly, the plush in hand.
A smile spread across his face.
"Not a single damn word," he replied.
His colleague was left speechless.
Enzo lifted the plush slightly, like a piece of evidence.
"But I've got a lead," he said, confident.
Back in the hotel office, Don Javier's business had never looked better.
On the screens behind him, graphs, numbers, and warehouse cameras scrolled by. He commented on them like he was watching a game.
"Now that's beautiful," he said as one graph shot upward. "Looks just like my cholesterol at forty."
Gwen and Leo stood in front of him.
Gwen, arms crossed, gaze drifting toward the window.
Leo, hands in his pockets, expression closed.
"Alright, alright, alright!" Javier exclaimed, suddenly jumping to his feet and clapping his hands together. "You two… you're like my super team."
He clenched both fists in front of him, eyes shining.
"This is great."
He turned to Gwen with a predatory grin.
"Still feel like killing me?"
"Always," Gwen answered, staring straight into his eyes without a hint of hesitation.
Leo didn't even need to think.
"Same here," he added calmly.
Don Javier looked at them both.
Silence stretched.
Then he burst out laughing.
"We're going to do great things, I can feel it," he said, delighted.
He sat back down and started typing on his keyboard, as if having his two best assets openly want him dead was just an amusing detail.
Elsewhere, in a dimly lit underground parking lot, the mood was very different.
A sickly yellow light flickered overhead, throwing long shadows between the cars.
Enzo Alvarez waited, leaning against a concrete pillar, hands in the pockets of his coat. His eyes held the same sharp intensity they'd had on the night of the warehouse.
Footsteps echoed.
A man in a dark suit, clearly uneasy, carrying a metal briefcase, approached.
"You sure about this?" he asked, stopping a few meters away.
Enzo didn't answer right away.
He pushed off the pillar, walked forward calmly, and held out his hand.
The man hesitated, then handed over the case.
Enzo opened it right there.
Inside, a single fragment of stone.
Palm‑sized, its white surface marbled with glowing lines of ancient script, as if something inside it was faintly pulsing.
The neon above them flickered.
"So the rumor was true…" Enzo murmured to himself.
He slipped off his gloves and tucked them into his pocket, then reached toward the fragment.
"I'd strongly advise you not to—" the other man began.
Too late.
Enzo's fingers touched the stone.
For one second, nothing.
Then the fragment lit up, blazing bright. The glowing veins flared, and in an instant the material seemed to liquefy, dissolving and crawling up his skin like living ink.
The man in the suit stumbled back, panicking.
"Holy shit…!"
The "stone" fused with Enzo, vanishing into his hand, then his arm, then his chest. His body didn't change. No monstrous mutation, no blinding aura. Just a shiver that ran through him from the nape of his neck to the tips of his fingers.
Enzo looked down at his hand.
He turned it palm up.
Nothing, at least to the eye.
"Are… are you alright?" the other man asked, voice pale.
Enzo slowly brought the fingers of his right hand closer together, like he was testing something.
A soft, sharp crack sounded.
Tiny sparks leapt between his fingertips.
He watched them, fascinated, a thin smile forming on his lips.
"Yeah," he said at last. "I'm doing just fine."
The sparks flared brighter for a heartbeat, lighting up his eyes.
To be continued.