Chapter 61: Capture

In order to strictly limit the notice of New Veridia's authorities, the strength of the personnel participating in this infiltration operation was carefully restricted. The highest rank among them was only Rank Two, Level Five; this was to reduce the risk of being discovered by the city's high-level psionic sensors. After all, if one's psionic signature was too powerful, it would easily attract unwanted attention.

To ensure the successful capture of Ethan Atherton, the Evolution Cult had unhesitatingly dispatched an overwhelming force: one Rank Two, Level Three master to lead, two other Rank Two masters, and several Rank One, Level Ten members to strike together. For this single operation, they had brought a total of only eight operatives into the city. Among them, five were solely responsible for the capture of one boy.

After waiting for the five of them to depart into the city's shadows, one of the remaining two cultists couldn't help but ask their leader, "Deacon, what should we do next?"

The Deacon's eyes were grim as he replied, "Our actions from here must be cautious. We must ensure that there are no mistakes. Considering the premise that the primary team might fail, we still need to make other preparations. You two will follow me to pay a quiet visit to Ethan Atherton's parents."

The night in New Veridia had grown deep and quiet. After Ethan and his friends parted ways, he began the solitary walk home. The adrenaline from the tournament had faded, leaving a pleasant exhaustion in its place. He knew the principal and Mayor Thorne were still at his apartment, personally offering their congratulations—a ridiculously high honor for a school competition, but that was the kind of influence his aunt Lily carried.

He turned onto his street, the familiar glow of the streetlights a comforting beacon. But tonight, the comfort wasn't there. The air felt… heavy. Wrong. The usual distant city hum was muffled, and the shadows between the streetlights seemed too deep, too hungry. He stopped, every nerve ending suddenly on fire. This was a feeling Lily's week of brutal "training" had hammered into him—the primal awareness of being watched, of being hunted.

His hand drifted instinctively to the Omnitrix.

"Who's there?" His voice was steady, but it felt small in the sudden, oppressive silence. "Come out!"

From the ink-black maw of an alleyway, two figures detached themselves from the darkness. They were cloaked in black, their movements eerily silent. Their psionic signatures flared into his awareness like sudden, ugly wounds in the night—both Rank One, Level Ten.

One of them spoke, his voice a low rasp distorted by a modulator. "I thought you were just an ordinary high school student. Impressive senses."

"Enough talk," the other one snapped, his posture coiled, ready to spring. "Take him." They didn't walk; they exploded into motion, rushing Ethan from two angles.

Ethan reacted on pure instinct, his body moving before his mind could fully process the attack. He dodged, the grab of one cultist brushing the back of his robe while the other's lunge met empty air. Enemies. Real enemies.

There was no time for questions. He activated the Omnitrix. "It's Hero Time!"

"Heatblast!"

A wave of intense heat and brilliant green light erupted from him. The air shimmered. In his new, molten rock form, he immediately launched two crackling fireballs. The men split apart, nimbly dodging, but Ethan, with his newly refined control, willed the fireballs to follow. They banked sharply in mid-air, relentlessly hounding their targets.

He prepared to summon another volley, but a sharp zip of sound cut through the night from a new direction. He didn't see it, didn't have time to look. He just ducked. A psionically-charged flying knife whistled past where his head had been, embedding itself in a concrete wall with a loud thump. He felt a jarring impact on his shoulder—a second knife had grazed him. The force was surprisingly weak against his rocky hide, but the message was clear: there were more of them.

"Damn it! You actually dodged the kill shot!" A third figure floated out from the shadows of a rooftop, a dark silhouette against the moon. He raised a hand, and several more sharp knives condensed from shimmering Aura around him. Like a deadly rain of arrows, they shot towards Ethan.

This time, he was ready. He raised both hands and summoned a roaring shield of fire. The knives struck the shield with a series of sharp tings, their metal glowing white-hot before melting into useless, dripping slag.

They know, Ethan's mind raced, the pieces clicking into place with horrifying speed. They know I'm Kid Hacker. They know I have multiple forms. The Deacon, The Gauntlet... this is the Evolution Cult. How many are there? Where are the others? I have to run. Now! He wasn't worried about his family—not with a Rank Four Mayor and the school principal in his living room. He just had to save himself.

He clapped his hands together, releasing a massive wave of fire across the street, a curtain of flame to cover his escape. Banking the flames from his feet, he launched himself into the sky, a human rocket. "Hehe, see ya!" he yelled, a desperate note of bravado in his voice.

He hadn't even cleared the rooftops when a brilliant beam of light shot out from another building, searing his back. The pain was sharp, electric. His flight sputtered, and he crashed heavily to the ground, his impact carving a crater in the asphalt.

A window on the third floor of a nearby apartment building slid open. "Who's making all that racket!" a man yelled. "It's the middle of the night, can't you let people sleep!" The words had barely left his mouth when a second light bullet grazed his scalp and hit the wall behind him with a thwack. The man's toupee was instantly incinerated, leaving a perfect bald spot. He froze, broke out in a cold sweat, swallowed hard, and slammed his window shut. "H-hey, 911? Help!"

Ethan struggled to his feet, a sharp pain radiating from his chest. From the rooftop, a barrage of dense light bullets began to rain down on him. In this dire situation, he couldn't afford to worry about secrets. He slammed the Omnitrix symbol. Faster! I need to be faster!

He switched to XLR8 just as the light bullets struck the spot where he'd been, peppering the ground with explosive impacts.

"Just as the intel said," a new, calm voice stated. Another black-robed man walked out from behind a parked car. The light bullets had come from him. "You really do have two, or even more, alien forms."

"Just how many of you are there?!" Ethan yelled, his voice now a high-pitched whir. Before the words finished, a fifth figure blurred past him with incredible speed, grabbing his tail and yanking him to a jarring halt. Ethan turned his head. Sure enough, another one. The speedster of their group.

"Not too many," the leader, the knife-thrower, said as he floated down from the rooftop, flanked by the other two. They formed a circle around him. "Just us five."

Ethan's heart sank. "To capture just me, you mobilized five people? You guys really think highly of me!"

The leader landed softly. "The Deacon's orders were clear. We must be cautious. Your potential is... significant. We were to use overwhelming force to ensure there were no mistakes." He took a step closer, his voice devoid of emotion. "Now, this has gone on long enough. Come back with us, and you can suffer less physical pain."

"Who on earth are you people!" Ethan demanded, trying to pull his tail free, but the one called Cheetah had it pinned with a foot, his grip like a vice.

The leader seemed almost amused. "You still don't understand? We are the architects of the future. We are the heralds of true evolution. The Evolution Cult has a great interest in your… unique progression."

Another member, a woman whose psionic signature felt like a cold aurora, spoke up. "The Deacon wants to see the specimen. Unharmed, if possible."

Ethan, trapped and surrounded, felt a true, cold dread seep into his bones. This wasn't a game. This wasn't a spar. These people were professionals.

"So," he said, his mind racing for any possible escape, "you guys are the real deal, huh? No silly rhyming motto?"

The leader tilted his head. "We are not clowns, boy. We are the inevitable future. And you… you are a crucial step on that path. Now, are you going to come quietly?"