Year 2065

  The stench of sweat had invaded his nostrils for so long he'd gotten used to it.

  Daniel Cross felt eyes were on him as he lay on the damp bench, fingers wrapping around the bar.

  He barely fit on the bench.

  The plates stacked on each side caused the barbell to bend slightly in the middle.

  Sweat dripped from his outstretched hand, but he didn't flinch.

  The silence pierced the room, as if every gym equipment was stopped halfway.

  He exhaled.

  And inhaled.

  His arms held firm as he held the full weight.

  It lowered slowly, shakily, to his chest.

  Then he pushed, his chest screamed.

  His face contorted into a grimace as he squeezed his muscles.

  The bar rose slowly, his elbows straightening.

  He visualised each individual muscle fiber, imagining the electrical signals his brain is pumping to each one.

  His Heartlight output was null.

  He pushed through the pain, his shoulders and triceps felt like they were at their limit.

  Then it reached the top.

  The 4 spotters quickly held the bar for him and put it back on the rack.

  Thunderous applause startled him.

  It always startled him.

  When he was doing a set, nothing got to him.

  It was his comfort zone.

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  The generic pats on the back and empty words of approval meant nothing to him.

  He sat on the bench, dripping in sweat.

  The 8 hours he'd been here hadn't changed a thing.

  His whole team was still dead.

  All because he couldn't reach them in time.

  For months he'd tried to get faster, even pouring Heartlight into speed, training relentlessly.

  But weeks turned into months and his speed didn't change.

  He cursed and swore at his behemoth of a body.

  Losing weight was impossible.

  His stomach rumbled from yet another failed attempt.

  So he returned to the gym, the only place he felt at ease.

  To drown his guilt in sweat.

  He paused.

  Sounds of machinery moving had halted completely.

  When did that happen?

  A low, dry voice pierced the silence.

  "No amount of strength can overcome your lack of speed you know."

  He whipped his head up.

  A black fedora.

  A trench coat too clean for this place.

  White mask, eye holes like cold knives.

  Matte gloves, not a speck of dirt.

  A red eye mark on his glove and hat.

  He stood out like a stain on the air.

  Like someone who didn’t belong here at all.

  He looked around.

  The once packed gym was now completely empty.

  When?

  "I'm aware." he replied, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

  The man stood there, unmoving, as if reading his emotions.

  Those eyes...

  They bore into his soul.

  "My deepest condolences, Mr Cross."

  Was that empathy?

  The man continued.

  "I saw the footage. You were 5 seconds too late. There isn't much point in chasing speed. You'll never beat it."

  Daniel clenched his fists in frustration, then let go.

  I know that.

  Red sparks gathered.

  A coin materialised from red sparks in the man's hand.

  He stared as it rolled along the man's knuckles.

  "Do you believe in fate, Mr Cross?"

  "I—I don't know," Daniel Cross replied, defeated.

  The man flicked the coin into the air.

  Daniel watched as the coin spun, then stopped mid air.

  "I don't," the man said coldly. "I believe fate is a concept engineered by those who are too afraid to accept reality. I believe our choices led us to this moment."

  Daniel simply stared at him, flashbacks of the incident replaying in his mind.

  He stayed quiet.

  "I believe you weren’t weak.

  You were simply… not built to be a Guardian. What if you could have reached them in an instant?"

  The coin started to fall again.

  When it hit the man's palm it dissipated.

  "Mr Cross, when this happens again—and it will—are you going to arrive too late again?”

  ---

  Year 2082

  Warden lay on the ground.

  He looked at the Cube.

  It'd been his answer to those faster than him.

  Instant movement.

  Exact positioning.

  His speed was out of the equation.

  It'd worked.

  For years it worked.

  Up till now.

  There was nothing wrong with the Cube.

  He'd been over reliant on it.

  It was no longer a tool, but a crutch.

  The problem wasn't solved.

  He had just been avoiding it.

  Mindlessly spamming teleports was never going to work against stronger opponents.

  What held him back now wasnt the Cube, but his over reliance on it.

  If I keep fighting like this, I’ll lose again.

  So fight differently.

  I can’t chase him.

  I was never built for that.

  So stop chasing.

  Make him come to me.

  Warden slowly sat up on his own.

  He got to his feet shakily.

  The sounds of fighting drowned out as his focus was poised on Wanderer, who was now engaged in battle with Dusk and Raguel.

  Legionnaire's voice floated over the comms.

  "Warden, the Cube is damaged, you'll be fighting at a severe disadvantage."

  Warden walked over to Authority.

  He left the deactivated Cube on the ground as he reached for Authority with both hands.

  The massive sledgehammer screeched across the ground in protest as he dragged it into battle.

  Blood leaked from his armour.

  I only need one hit.