Chapter 12 "Noah

  "Hello everyone! It's 10 a.m. and on this January 1st, 2024, the whole team wishes you an excellent year! We're starting this new year with good news: the economy is finally picking up again, a real breath of fresh air for the global industry. Ever since the mysterious NoName group suddenly scaled back its activities, the markets have been breathing easier. 3.8% growth forecast in Europe, return of foreign investment... a wind of optimism is blowing!"

  Tchhhhp

  "...groups claiming to be affiliated with NoName continue to cause trouble all over the world. Since the historic 2019 information leak, these small cells have been multiplying. But thanks to the efficiency of law enforcement, order is gradually returning to our streets. In Paris last night, 127 arrests during an undeclared demonstration in front of the National Assembly. The slogans 'Truth before Order' were brandished once again."

  Tchhhhp

  —Tss... In the end, what did their revelations even achieve? Apart from keeping Trump in power thanks to a permanent state of emergency? We've been stuck with him for over ten years now, and it's going to go on for a long time! That president is completely unpredictable.

  —You still have to admit it exposed critical flaws in our institutions. Not to mention the horror of Project Zero, brought out into the open...

  —Oh really? They supposedly opened an international investigation and, strangely enough, we're no further forward. Look at the completely freakish weather phenomena we've had: storms that vanish in a few minutes, earthquakes that stop dead... And then overnight, nothing!

  —Are you talking about the Tianjin bridge collapse in China?

  —Of course! A 113-kilometer bridge, for God's sake! It started collapsing and was mysteriously held in the air just long enough for everyone to evacuate. You're going to tell me that was a coincidence? And the Category 5 storm in Tahiti that evaporated the moment it touched the island? Coincidence too?

  —Well...

  —Strange things are happening, I'm telling you. And NoName, those so-called heroes who dump the truth without thinking, they know what's really going on.

  Tchhhhp

  "...Japan continues to face ballistic missile test launches despite international sanctions. Pyongyang claims they are just routine military exercises, but tension remains at its peak in the region. Tokyo activated its civilian alert system again this morning."

  Tchhhhp (crowd noise, rhythmic chanting)

  "Truth before Order! Truth before Order!" "NoName is right! Stop hiding the truth! The fragments exist! The powers exist! We don't believe you anymore!"

  (Reporter live) "We are in Washington, in front of the Capitol. Several thousand demonstrators affiliated with the NoName movement. They are waving signs showing Hebrew symbols, blurred photos of alleged 'carriers', and demanding the full declassification of Project Zero files. Law enforcement has erected barriers, but the situation remains tense."

  Tchhhhp

  "...and these messages continue to spread massively on X: 'NoName is right. Stop hiding the truth. Truth before Order!' The movement has only grown since 2019. Some analysts now speak of a genuine transnational, almost cult-like ideology."

  —Pfft. Looks like New Age 2.0. They should stop their bullshit and get real jobs.

  Tchhhhp (religious talk show, grave tone)

  "My brothers and sisters, look around you: the signs are there. Storms that stop abruptly, terminally ill patients who heal without explanation, children performing inexplicable feats... These are not coincidences. These are the fragments of the divine Stone that NoName spoke of. The Lord is testing us. Prepare your souls."

  Tchhhhp (urgent news flash)

  "...a new massive power outage is affecting the West Coast of the United States. More than 8 million people without electricity for 4 hours. Authorities are calling it a 'technical incident', but anonymous accounts linked to NoName are claiming a 'peaceful demonstration'. They say they simply 'cut the power for a few hours to remind everyone we can shut it all down whenever we want'."

  Tchhhhp

  "...and remember the Mumbai incident in 2022: a total blackout for three days, followed by mass healings in hospitals. Hundreds of patients with spontaneous remissions. Doctors never explained how. But on NoName forums, people were talking about a 'carrier' who supposedly intervened discreetly."

  —I'm telling you, it's dangerous. These people are playing with forces they don't understand.

  Tchhhhp (advertisement)

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  Tchhhhp (political debate)

  "Ma'am, you lead the majority party. How do you explain that, five years after the revelations, not a single key figure from Project Zero has been brought to trial?"

  "Look, investigations are ongoing. It's complicated. There are national security issues..."

  "National security or massive cover-up? The people want answers!" (crowd boos)

  Tchhhhp (stadium atmosphere, chanting)

  "No-Name! No-Name! Truth before Order!"

  (sports commentator) "Incredible scene here at the Stade de France before the France-Brazil match. Supporters have unfurled a huge banner: 'The real gods play on the field, the fake ones are in Washington'. Law enforcement is intervening to take it down."

  Tchhhhp

  "...and to close this news bulletin on a positive note: the unemployment rate is at its lowest in fifteen years. Experts attribute this recovery to the discreet exploitation of new technologies derived from... uh... advanced civilian research programs. Good evening everyone."

  Tchhhhp (interview set, solemn atmosphere, patriotic background: American flag, soldiers training)

  "Mr. Secretary of Defense, William Campbell, thank you for joining us at the start of 2024. You have held this position since 2018, following the corruption revelations that tarnished your predecessor. Five years after the massive leaks by the NoName group, the world still seems shaken by rumors of supernatural phenomena, fragments of the 'Stone of God' and inexplicable events. How do you respond to all this?"

  William Campbell, with a confident smile and a calm, reassuring tone, speaks in a firm yet soothing voice:

  "First of all, thank you for having me, and happy new year to all Americans. Look, I understand the concerns. These past five years have been turbulent, with information leaks that sowed doubt. But let me reassure you: the United States Department of Defense is working actively, day and night, to protect our people. Our teams, made up of the best experts, closely monitor any potential threat, whether real or perceived."

  He pauses, adjusts his glasses with a measured gesture, then rationalizes:

  "As for these stories of 'fragments' or supernatural powers... Frankly, they are nonsense amplified by social media and conspiracy theories. We live in a complex world, with rapid technological advances and unpredictable natural events – like the storms or collapses we've seen. But these are not divine signs or mystical artifacts. They are challenges that science and human ingenuity can explain and solve. What really matters is maintaining public safety. We are investing massively in cybersecurity, missile defense, and civil protection so every citizen can feel safe at home."

  He insists, with a more enthusiastic tone, gesturing slightly to emphasize his words:

  "And look at the concrete results! My work alongside President Trump since 2018 has allowed an unprecedented return of investor confidence. Thanks to our firm policies – targeted state of emergency, security reforms – the American economy has rebounded. Record growth, millions of jobs created, technological innovations that benefit everyone. That is the true strength of America: not wild rumors, but tangible actions for a prosperous and secure future."

  "Thank you, Mr. Secretary. Reassuring words to start the year."

  Noah turned off the television.

  He had spent the last five years training his younger self – the one who was now thirteen, while he himself was twenty. He rubbed his eyes, placed his hands over his face and murmured:

  "It's this year..."

  His smartphone vibrated. A long message from his younger self, explaining everything he had discovered that night: Gwen, Léo, the mute girl (Iris). Noah gave a faint smile, thinking: Idiot... You know I'm you. I already know all that.

  He got up from the couch, adjusted his mask and walked out with heavy steps, his voice tinged with melancholy. At the door, Mike stood posted, imposing as a mountain. He gripped Noah's shoulder firmly with one hand.

  "Can you come up to the roof? I'd like to talk to you, NoName."

  Noah nodded silently.

  On the roof, a light breeze was blowing. They were in Los Angeles, the City of Angels. Noah stayed with his back to Mike, eyes lost in the glittering urban horizon. Mike, arms crossed, broke the silence with a deep, almost fatherly voice:

  "It's been a little over six years now since you started leading this organization that bears your name. For those six years, we've followed you without asking questions. Your mentor passed it on to you after his death."

  "Yes... And I did my best to live up to your expectations," sighed Noah, throat tight.

  "I can't say otherwise. You gathered survivors of various massacres here, people broken by state secrets. Widows, lost souls..."

  "..."

  "But today... you've drifted away from us. You seem detached, as if you've given up."

  "..."

  "What's going on? I've always been by your side. Talk to me."

  Noah remained silent, the wind whipping his mask like a cruel reminder. Mike continued, voice more pressing:

  "Listen... In 2019, when I found that blood-covered child at my door, he spoke to me about a certain Noah..."

  "Your son..."

  "No. He wasn't talking about himself. I investigated, and it led nowhere. No trace of entry or exit. That child just appeared. At first I didn't understand. Then I witnessed your training sessions with him. Risky, deadly sessions... But not once did you flinch. As if you already knew he would succeed."

  The wind blew harder, carrying the distant echo of the city.

  "Then I understood. A mysterious child with supernatural powers. A Noah who disappears without a trace. Nothing is a coincidence. And ever since we learned about Project Zero, everything became clear to me. NoName... you are the Noah that boy told me about. I witnessed your beginnings in the organization. I watched you grow, become the leader everyone follows. But I also see the loneliness you've carried all this time. Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you ask for help? Why hide it from me?"

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  Noah slowly turned around. He removed his mask, revealing a melancholic, haunted smile. His eyes shone with restrained tears.

  "You're really too good, Mike..."

  His legs gave way. He fell to his knees, silent sobs shaking his body. The mountain of muscle that was Mike threw himself at him, grabbing his shoulders with unexpected tenderness, like a grieving father.

  "Why?! Why didn't you say anything all this time?!"

  "I... I couldn't," Noah choked out, voice broken. "You didn't need a leader with a face... I had to become a symbol. It was the only way..."

  "Why... Why did you choose to present yourself under the name Noah?"

  He pulled Mike into his arms, sobbing openly against his massive chest. He stayed silent, but thought: I didn't choose that name... It's the one you gave me... at your death. When I was thirteen. Yes... this year, you're going to die, and I can't do anything but live through it again.

  He pulled himself together, wiped his tears with a trembling hand, and murmured in a hoarse voice:

  "Let's go have a drink."

  The three months that followed were a whirlwind of action and emotion, a fragile balance between the relentless duty of NoName and the precious moments stolen from ordinary life. Noah, beneath his mask of ruthless leader, intensified operations like never before. Every morning, after the daily briefings, he ordered daring infiltrations to leak state-protected information. Using his temporal power—that time-stop ability that made him invisible and untouchable—he slipped into ultra-secure facilities: bases buried under Nevada mountains, high-tech bunkers in Langley. The world froze around him: guards locked mid-patrol, surveillance cameras suspended in their eternal watch. Without the slightest difficulty, he retrieved classified documents—reports on illegal human experiments, proof of top-level corruption, details on the still-hidden fragments of the Stone of God. These leaks, anonymously released on X and darknets, sowed chaos in the corridors of power and fueled the NoName movement like wildfire.

  Within the group, Noah managed everything with an almost supernatural magnetic charisma. During strategic meetings, he stood at the center of the underground room that served as their Los Angeles HQ, his voice ringing out like a beacon in the storm. "We are not terrorists," he declared, eyes shining behind the mask, "we are the guardians of truth. Every infiltration is not revenge, but liberation." He motivated the teams with speeches that reached the soul: he remembered each person's personal story—the widow who lost her husband to a state "accident," the former soldier broken by immoral orders. One evening, facing a hesitant team before a high-risk mission, he placed his hand on a young recruit's shoulder and murmured: "I know what it's like to lose everything. But together, we rebuild. Go—and come back whole." Under his command, NoName was no longer a scattered group; it had become a family united, forged in the fire of revealed secrets.

  But amid this invisible war, Noah clung to his moments with Mike like a lifeline. From time to time they went out, far from the shadows of the HQ, to drink in discreet city bars. Mike, with his imposing build and booming laugh, always ordered a craft beer, while Noah sipped a neat whisky, eyes lost in the flashing neon lights. "To life, kid," Mike would toast, raising his glass, unaware of the weight Noah carried. Those evenings stretched into late-night talks on the roof, where Mike shared stories from his youth—street fights in Brooklyn, lost loves—and Noah listened, heart tight, knowing those memories were numbered.

  Other times, they threw impromptu evenings at Mike's place, turning his modest apartment into a haven of normalcy. They played video games on an old console—fierce rounds of Street Fighter or Call of Duty, where Mike, despite his age, proved a formidable opponent. "Take that, punk!" he would roar with laughter when he won, slapping Noah's back with gruff affection. For the first time in years, Noah let himself go: he laughed genuinely, forgot—for a moment—the inexorable ticking of fate. Those moments were moving in their simplicity—like a father and son in 2024, sharing delivered pizza and dumb jokes in front of the screen. Mike taught Noah mundane skills: how to fix a motorcycle, how to cook the perfect steak. In return, Noah slipped in discreet security tips, protecting Mike without ever revealing why.

  Yet beneath these fleeting joys, Noah's grief grew. Every shared laugh, every paternal embrace, carried a secret bitterness. He knew these three months were a reprieve stolen from time, a disguised farewell. Mike, oblivious, had become for him the father he had never had—a pillar of strength and tenderness. And in the silence of his solitary nights, Noah prepared for the worst, vowing to cherish every second before the inevitable struck.

  Mike laughed, his voice rough from alcohol: "I'm gonna step out for a smoke."

  Noah, sitting across from him, gave a half-smile and raised his glass. "Go by yourself. I can't stand the smell. You smoke way too much, calm down, old man." "Hahaha! You gonna stop me, maybe?"

  Noah burst out laughing, lightly joyful from the whisky's warmth. He watched Mike lumber toward the bar's exit, his massive silhouette vanishing into the smoke and red neon. The old veteran shot him a complicit wink before stepping through the door, as if to say: Enjoy, kid. Youth passes fast.

  Noah shook his head, touched, and took another sip.

  A woman sat down across from him without a sound, as though the chair had been waiting for her. Thirty-ish, brunette with short silky hair, piercing green eyes, elegant dark suit that clashed with the grimy veterans' bar atmosphere. She set her glass of red wine in front of her and smiled—a slow, almost dangerous smile. "What's a handsome young man like you doing in this old veterans' bar? Are you sure you're old enough to drink?"

  Noah raised an eyebrow, amused. "You here to card me, Agent?" he said sarcastically, pulling out an ID card showing twenty-one years old. "A friend's recommendation," he added, nodding toward the door. "He says the vibe is 'authentic.' As for why I'm here... I'll throw the question back at you."

  She laughed softly, a low, charming sound. "He's right. You meet... interesting people here. I'm Illona. Illona Virtanen." "Noah," he said simply.

  She tilted her head slightly. "Noah... like Noah the savior? Curious coincidence. A strange man once told me about a Noah who saved thirteen children for something like 'the end of the world.'"

  He stiffened almost imperceptibly but kept his smile. "Lots of Noahs in the world, and I don't buy into that kind of fantasy." "True," she murmured, swirling her wine. "But not many who watch the news the way you did earlier when the broadcast came on. You frowned when they mentioned Secretary Campbell."

  Noah shrugged. "Campbell talks well. He reassures people. It's his job." "And does it reassure you?"

  She asked the question gently, almost tenderly, as if discussing the weather. "Let's say... I have trouble believing someone who says everything's fine when the world's been spiraling for five years."

  Illona nodded slowly, eyes never leaving his. "The strange phenomena, the leaks, the fragments... Do you think it's all nonsense? Or do you think there are people up there who know things they aren't saying?"

  She leaned in just a little closer—enough for the scent of her perfume (something fresh, almost Nordic) to brush him. "I believe there are people responsible. People who let horrors happen. And I wonder... who might have an interest in keeping the truth buried."

  Noah felt his pulse quicken. She was playing subtly, never accusing outright, but every word was an arrow. "I'm seriously starting to wonder if you're a cop or a journalist," he asked, half-teasing. "Independent investigator," she replied with a small smile. "For five years I've been digging into Project Zero. The labs, the experiments, the children... Everything we glimpsed in 2019 and quickly tried to forget."

  She took a sip, never breaking eye contact. "I'm not after whistleblowers. Quite the opposite. I'm after the ones who gave the orders. The ones who funded it. The ones who covered it up."

  Silence. She gently placed her hand on the table, not far from his. "And sometimes... I tell myself the people best placed to know aren't necessarily the ones we think."

  Noah felt warmth rise. She was beautiful, intelligent, dangerous. And she knew. He was almost certain.

  Across the bar, Mike—back from his cigarette—watched discreetly. He smiled to himself, shook his head fondly. Let the kid enjoy. He doesn't get the chance often.

  Illona finished her glass and rose slowly. She slid a simple business card across the table: just a name and phone number. "If one day you feel like talking about all this... or something else, call me. No trap. Just answers. For both of us."

  She gave him one last almost tender smile, then walked toward the exit, her heels clicking softly on the old wood floor.

  Noah looked down at the card.

  Illona Virtanen – Investigator – Project Zero

  He finally understood completely. She knew who he was. Not to destroy him. But to understand. To find the real culprits. The ones who had broken lives long before NoName ever existed.

  He slipped the card into his inside pocket and downed his glass in one go.

  Outside, Mike was waiting, arms crossed, a crooked smile on his face. "So? You get her number?"

  Noah laughed despite himself. "Yeah... Something like that."

  Back in her car, Illona thought: Strange... His reaction doesn't match. We had intel that he escaped in 2021... Yet the young man I just met has nothing to do with that nameless man. And yet... is it just me or do they resemble each other? Their gazes are drastically different... Two people? He has the same face as the nameless man I interrogated, but drastically different behavior. If the nameless man were really here today, he'd be around twenty-five, not twenty. Is it possible to change that much without aging? Split personality? Twins? The same person? Why does this one call himself Noah, while the other says he has no name? What is the real link between the nameless man and Noah?

  Her tongue clicked. Something doesn't add up.

  She started the engine, gaze lost in the rear-view mirror where the bar was receding. The questions looped in her mind like an incomplete puzzle. She had been investigating Project Zero for five years, chasing shadows and secrets, but this encounter with Noah added a layer of mystery she hadn't anticipated. Potential ally, or new trap?

  She grabbed her phone and quickly jotted: "Check Noah timeline / Nameless Man. Age anomaly?" Tomorrow she would dig deeper.

  A few weeks later.

  Noah woke in the depths of the NoName group's base—a discreet building funded by money accumulated through guaranteed-winning sports bets. Time travel had its perks: knowing results in advance offered near-unlimited economic power.

  He put on his mask, steadied his breathing. Today... he thought. But Mike is on leave. The younger me is in Las Vegas. I've reinforced security at every level. There's no reason things should spiral...

  Vrr vrr. His phone vibrated. "Hello?" "It's me. I just got back. I'm with my friends. There are four of us: the silver-haired girl, Léo, and Gwen. I'll explain everything, but we need to meet. They need a place to hide." "Wh... You... Where are you right now?" "Uh... Los Angeles." "That's not what—"

  A faint high-pitched whine pierced the air. Noah slowly raised his head. That's not how it happened in my memories... He frantically searched his mind. My memories... just changed?

  A drone hovered right outside his window. Then an explosion rang out.

  At the same moment, a few kilometers away.

  I heard Noah say: "Above all don't co—" The call cut off abruptly. In the distance, on a phone screen, a building burned. "It's... it's the base!"

  Léo and the mute girl understood instantly. Léo, tense, clenched his fists. "We'll never get there in time..."

  A clear but slightly crackling female voice rose from the speaker of the phone Léo was holding: "I have the footage. Massive explosion. Data streams indicate a lightning operation against NoName. Intervention underway... abandon. Over two thousand intervention forces mobilized. This comes straight from an order by Secretary of Defense William Campbell..."

  "No. No. We're not abandoning. They're all I have. No way I'm leaving my comrades behind."

  A faint metallic creak sounded behind us. "I can fix that."

  I turned around. "You're..." "Zoé. Zoé Duncan. Nice to see you again, Time Boy."

  I couldn't believe my eyes. In front of me, in a wheelchair, stood my friend from Project Zero. She had always been kind to me back then. She could teleport at will, but I thought I'd seen her take her last breath when she generated a black hole to protect everyone. She had survived. "You... your body... You're..." "Disabled. Yes. I can no longer walk or see. My eyes are closed forever. And no more personal teleportation... but I have other abilities." She smiled gently, eyelids shut. "Could you describe an object near where we need to go?" "Uh... yes... Oh, I know! An ice cream truck. There's always one a couple blocks from the base." "Good."

  Zoé concentrated deeply. Hands resting on the armrests of her wheelchair, she extended her spatial perception field. She felt everything: cars, streets, people, air molecules... until she isolated the exact location of the ice cream truck amid the chaos. "Hold on to me."

  An elderly butler in an impeccable suit stepped forward anxiously. "Miss..." "Don't worry, Robert. I'll be back soon."

  Before he could protest, an entire ice cream truck appeared in the middle of the station where we stood. Instant place swap. We were now two streets from the burning base.

  The group consisted of: ? Léo, normal human forged by the streets and MMA fights. ? Zoé Duncan, mistress of space despite her blindness and motor disability. ? The mute silver-haired girl, perfect weapon manipulation, superhuman dexterity and speed. ? Gwen, literal incarnation of lightning; her ability let her dematerialize into the network—her voice came straight from nearby speakers, phones, advertising screens. She was the web itself. ? And me, the Time Boy, capable of stopping time, accumulating temporal debt, and releasing it offensively to shatter my enemies.

  Facing us: over two thousand highly trained soldiers, elite units, armored vehicles, drones, helicopters encircling the building where the NoName group was hiding.

  Léo stepped forward, fists clenched, and let out a nervous laugh: "Okay guys... I know I'm the only normal human among near-gods, but your plan... isn't it a bit... for you I don't know, but for me...?"

  Iris immediately dropped into a fighting stance, legs bent, ready to spring, her azure eyes locked on the enemy line like a target. She glanced at her brother and gave him a wink, as if confirming she would protect him.

  Zoé conjured a small dense-matter cube in her palm—ready to be thrown or reshaped at will. She turned her head slightly and gave a soft, affectionate laugh: "You'll assist me in this battle, Léo? As you noticed, I'm not exactly a model of dynamism..."

  Gwen spoke from Léo's phone speaker: "I've taken control of traffic lights and surveillance cameras in a five-kilometer radius. I can jam their comms for... let's say forty seconds max before they switch to analog. Use it. I won't let anyone get near you, Léo."

  My hands began to glow with blue sparks—temporal debt already gathering around my fingers: "Count on me to cover you, buddy."

  Léo sighed, cracked his neck, then puffed out his chest with a forced smile. "Great... Well, I was just saying, you know. I'll... just try to hit hard when needed while helping Zoé move around, then."

  I placed a hand on his shoulder. "We hit hard. Together."

  The mute girl nodded once—determined, as always.

  Zoé murmured calmly: "My detection space covers the whole area. I know exactly where every adversary is."

  In the distance, sirens screamed. Helicopters closed in on the secret NoName base. Soldiers advanced in perfect formation.

  Zoé took a deep breath. "Now."

  And we charged.

  We didn't know it yet, but that day—April 27, 2024—would forever mark human history, for it was later called the first day of the end of the world.

  To be continued...

  NoName will return.

  Thank you, dear reader, for your support. I hope you enjoyed these first two volumes and experienced the story in its entirety the way it was meant to be lived.

  This chapter marks the end of NoName's free publication on this platform — but don't worry. More exclusive stories set in the same universe are coming very soon. Stay tuned... the story is only just beginning.

  The continuation will be released soon on Amazon, and I truly hope you will continue supporting the work.

  Tell me everything in the comments:

  Who is your favorite character? Which one did you love... or hate?

  Do you have questions? Theories?

  I'm waiting for you.