The rain never stopped in the Slum Wastes. It fell in sheets from the towering structures above, filtered through decades of smog and industrial runoff until it hit the ground as something that was almost, but not quite, water. The few working streetlights reflected off puddles that shimmered with oily rainbows, creating pools of sickly light in the perpetual twilight.

  He huddled deeper into the loading dock alcove, pulling the stolen tarp tighter around his shoulders. Three days since he’d found this spot. Three days since anyone had bothered him. That was a record lately.

  Don’t think about before. Before doesn’t matter anymore.

  His stomach cramped—when had he last eaten? Yesterday? The day before? Time blurred together down here, each moment bleeding into the next in an endless cycle of hide, scavenge, hide again. The Nutra-paste he’d found in that dumpster had made him sick, but it was better than the alternative.

  Movement caught his eye—a rat, gene-modded to the size of a small cat, nosing through debris. His hand twitched, and he felt that strange pressure building behind his eyes again. The same sensation that had been growing stronger over the past weeks.

  The rat froze, whiskers twitching. Then, without warning, it lifted a foot off the ground.

  “Shit.” He clenched his eyes shut, and the rat dropped, scurrying away with an indignant squeak. “Not again.”

  It was getting worse. The headaches came daily now, preceded by that weird shimmer in his vision where he could see… something. Auras, maybe? Halos of colored light around people that seemed to pulse with their emotions. Red for anger. Blue for sadness. That sickly yellow-green that meant someone was hunting.

  Like now.

  He pressed himself deeper into the shadows as footsteps echoed off wet concrete. Three figures emerged from the maze of alleyways—women, because they were always women now. These wore the ragged leather and splice-job augmentations of the Razor Queens, one of the smaller gangs that controlled this section of the Wastes.

  “Told you I smelled something,” the leader said, her voice distorted by a vocal mod that made her sound like grinding metal. Half her face was replaced with crude cybernetics, the red eye scanning methodically. “Male pheromones. Fresh.”

  “Could be synthetic,” another suggested. “Black market cologne. You know how some of the brothels—”

  “No.” The leader’s head snapped toward his hiding spot. “This is real.”

  Run.

  The thought came a split second before his body obeyed. He burst from the alcove, tarp flying, feet splashing through puddles as he ran. Behind him, the Razor Queens gave chase, their augmented legs eating up the distance.

  “Male! Live male!”

  “Get him!”

  “Worth a fortune to the corps!”

  He turned hard left, muscle memory guiding him through paths he’d mapped over countless nights. Under the rusted walkway, through the gap in the chain-link fence that looked too small for a person to fit through. His pursuers had to go around, buying him seconds.

  The headache spiked, vision blurring. No, not now. He couldn’t afford—

  A dumpster blocked the alley ahead. No way around, too high to climb quickly. The footsteps were getting closer. In desperation, he thrust his hand out, and pushed with something that wasn’t quite his hand.

  The dumpster scraped sideways with a shriek of metal on concrete, leaving just enough gap to squeeze through. He didn’t stop to wonder how he’d done it, just ran.

  “He’s got powers!” one of the Queens screamed. “Omega class! Call it in!”

  Omega? The word meant nothing to him, but the excitement in their voices sent fresh terror through his body. He turned another corner and slammed directly into someone coming the other way.

  They went down in a tangle of limbs, his elbow catching the figure in the ribs. A feminine grunt of pain, then hands shoving him off with surprising strength. He scrambled backward, ready to run again, and found himself staring at a woman. White hair. Cat ears. Beautiful in that dangerous way everyone seemed to be since the event.

  She stared back, blue eyes widening with unmistakable recognition. Not of him personally—they’d never met. But of what he was. Her hand moved to the pistol at her hip, then stopped.

  They stayed frozen like that for a heartbeat. Two. Three.

  The Razor Queens’ voices echoed closer.

  The cat-girl—and she was definitely part cat, he could see that now—made a decision. Her hand shot out, grabbing his wrist. “This way. Now.”

  Something in her tone brooked no argument. He let her pull him to his feet and followed as she led him through a door he hadn’t even noticed, into the bowels of an abandoned processing plant. They moved in silence through rusted machinery and dripping pipes, her steps eerily quiet while his seemed to echo like gunshots.

  Finally, she stopped in what might have once been an office. Moldy papers still covered one wall. A desk had been shoved into a corner. She released his wrist and moved to the grimy window, peering out.

  “They’re circling back,” she said quietly. “But they lost the trail. You’re lucky—their scanner must be glitched.”

  He pressed himself against the far wall, trying to control his breathing. The woman turned to study him, and he was acutely aware of how he must look. Weeks of rough living, clothes scavenged from dumpsters, the gaunt look of someone who’d been running too long.

  “You’re really male,” she said. Not a question.

  He nodded, not trusting his voice.

  “And you have powers.”

  Another nod.

  She sighed, ears flattening slightly against her white hair, her tail swishing with agitation. “Fuck. You know what you’re worth? What the corps would pay?”

  “I didn’t ask for this.” The words came out harsher than intended. “Any of it.”

  Her blue eyes met his, and for a moment, something flickered there—empathy, maybe. “None of us did.” She leaned against the desk, crossing her arms, her tail curling around her leg like a nervous habit. “I’m supposed to bring you in. Z-Gang’s got a bounty out, same as everyone else.”

  His muscles tensed, ready to run again. The pressure built behind his eyes, and across the room, the desk shifted an inch.

  The woman’s eyes tracked the movement, her ears perking up slightly. “Telekinesis. That’s… rare.” She seemed to be having an internal argument, her tail lashing faster. Finally, she uncrossed her arms and stepped closer, not threatening, just... curious. “What happened to you? The gamma event was 10 years ago—most males didn't make it through the first wave. How'd you survive this long?”

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  He hesitated, the question pulling at memories he’d buried deep. But her gaze was steady, not predatory, and something about her—maybe the way her ears twitched with genuine interest—made him answer. “I was in a bunker. Some old corp safehouse I broke into right before it hit. The radiation... I guess it didn't kill me. Put me in some kind of coma maybe—some sort of stasis, like my body shut down to protect itself. I woke up three weeks ago, not even realizing what had happened or how long it had been. When I managed to get out of the bunker, it was clear that everything was different. At first, I tried to find my family, but everyone I knew was gone. I could feel it. Been lost since, trying to figure out what the hell I am, what the hell to do.”

  Felicity nodded slowly, her tail slowing its lash. “Gamma did that to a lot of us. Me? I was just a kid when it hit—near a stray cat, of all things. Woke up with these.” She flicked one ear, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Claws, agility, night vision. Z-Gang found me wandering the streets, took me in, trained me up. Turned me into a hunter. I track people like you for a living. Or... I did.”

  He caught the past tense. “Why help me, then? If it’s your job?”

  She looked away, her fingers tracing a scar on her arm—barely visible under her tank top. “Because I’ve seen what the corps do to ‘valuable assets.’ They break you down, experiment, turn you into weapons. I’ve... let a few slip away before. Quietly.” Her smile was faint, almost conspiratorial, and for the first time in weeks, he felt a spark of something like hope.

  “I’m nobody,” he said, voice softening. “But thanks. For not turning me in.”

  “Well, you're way more than a nobody, hun,” she replied, her tone light but laced with something warmer, like she was trying to coax a smile out of him. She tilted her head, taking a better look—tall and lean from the hardship, with sharp features hidden under layers of grime, dark hair matted by the endless rain, and eyes that held a haunted intensity, like someone who'd seen too much and understood too little. “What's your name?”

  He paused, the question hitting harder than expected. “I… I don’t know anymore. I had one, before. But that person died when the sky burned.” He laughed, a broken sound. “Been nobody for so long, I forgot what being somebody felt like.”

  Felicity tilted her head, her blue eyes thoughtful.

  “Zane,” he said suddenly.

  “Zane.” Felicity tested the name, nodding. “It suits you. Look, I—”

  A spotlight blazed through the window, followed by the distinctive whine of Enforcer drones. They both dropped to the floor as the light swept past.

  “Corporate patrol,” Felicity hissed. “They must have tracked the Omega signature. You need to go. Now.”

  But as they crawled toward the door, Zane’s vision exploded with color. The auras were back, stronger than ever. Through the walls, he could see them—six figures surrounding the building, their halos burning that predatory yellow-green. And above, the cold blue of drone signatures.

  “They’re already here,” he whispered. “All around us.”

  Felicity’s ears flattened completely. “How many?”

  “Six. No, seven. And drones.” The pressure in his skull was building to agony. “I can see them. Feel them. They’re excited. They know what they’ve found.”

  “Fuck.” She looked at him, really looked at him, and made another decision that would change everything. “Can you run?”

  “I’ve been running for weeks.”

  “No, I mean really run. Use those powers, push yourself. Because in about thirty seconds, this place is going to be swarming with corporate soldiers, and they won't take an Omega male alive without a fight.”

  He struggled to his feet, the world tilting dangerously. “I don’t even know what Omega means.”

  “It means you’re valuable. Dangerous. Something they want to control.” She pulled her pistol, checking the charge. “It means if we’re going to survive this, you need to stop running from your powers and start running with them.”

  The door exploded inward. Enforcer in full tactical gear, weapon raised. Felicity moved faster than human, faster than should be possible, her claws—when had she sprouted claws?—raking across the soldier’s visor. But more were coming.

  “Go!” she snarled, shoving him toward the window.

  Zane raised both hands and pushed. The window exploded outward. The desk flew across the room, taking two Enforcers down. Pipes burst in the ceiling, spraying water and rust. And for one impossible moment, he felt connected to everything—every piece of metal, every shard of glass, every drop of water in the air.

  [OMEGA AWAKENING - INITIAL MANIFESTATION]

  Unknown Male → Zane: Level 0 → 5

  +Crude Telekinesis

  +Danger Sense

  WARNING: Unstable Progression Detected

  Then Felicity grabbed him and they were diving through the window, into the rain, into the night, into a chase that would change the shape of Neo Horizon forever. Behind them, alarms wailed. Ahead, the city sprawled in all its neon glory, offering a million places to hide and nowhere truly safe.

  “Nice work back there,” Felicity panted as they ran, her tail flicking behind her like a whip. “That push? Saved our asses. But that light show... every corp in the city just got pinged. We're marked now.”

  Zane stumbled, caught himself, kept moving. The power was fading fast, leaving him empty and shaking, his head pounding like it might split open. Alive, yeah—but what the hell had he just done? It felt like something inside him had cracked wide, and he wasn't sure if it was a gift or a curse. “I... I don't know how I did that. It just... happened. What now? Where do we even go?”

  Felicity glanced at him, her blue eyes sharp in the flickering neon. “We keep moving, hun. Stick with me for now—I've got a safe spot in the undergrid. But stay sharp. The corps don't give up easy, and neither do I.”

  He nodded, the rain mixing with sweat on his skin, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and raw survival instinct. He wasn't sure what came next—hell, he wasn't sure of anything anymore—but for the first time since waking, he didn't feel quite so alone in the chaos.