He closed his eyes, finally succumbing to the heavy pull of sleep. But peace didn’t come.

Silas found himself standing in an endless white void. Around him, shadows moved, darting in and out of his vision, just beyond his reach. They whispered, low and indistinct, their voices weaving through the air like threads of silk. He turned, trying to follow one of the figures, but every time he got close, it vanished, leaving nothing but an echo.

The white void shifted, melting away into the familiar lights of the VR arcade. The glowing screens flickered, casting neon colors across the dark room. Silas was back in the pod, unable to move, staring out as faceless figures walked by, their eyes empty, their expressions hollow. He tried to lift his hands, to scream, but his body wouldn’t obey.

Then he saw her—the figure he’d sensed watching him in the simulation. She was faint at first, a dark shape barely visible through the neon glow. But as she drew closer, her face took form: a woman with piercing, unnaturally sharp eyes and a wide, twisted grin that seemed both mocking and knowing. Allison. Her name formed in his mind unbidden, a name he knew without knowing why.

Allison leaned in closer, her expression hungry as her grin stretched unnaturally, contorting her face into something monstrous. “You’re right where I want you,” she whispered, her voice smooth and eerie, cutting through the silence.

Silas felt panic rise in his chest, but his body remained frozen, trapped in her gaze. Suddenly, the room shifted again. He was no longer in the arcade but back in Rivers, high above the city’s skyline. He was at the edge of a skyscraper, the cold wind whipping around him, and the streets below stretched into darkness.

He looked over his shoulder and saw Allison standing behind him, her grin wider, more menacing. Her eyes burned with a sinister glow, something inhuman, and she raised a hand toward him, her fingers twisting like claws.

“Falling is easy,” she murmured, her voice echoing around him, louder and louder until it filled the night air. “It’s staying afloat that’s impossible.”

Before he could react, she gave him a slight push, and he stumbled backward, his feet slipping off the edge. He flailed, reaching out, but there was nothing to hold onto. The world blurred around him as he fell, the city’s lights spinning, Allison’s grin still haunting his vision.

He was plunging downward, faster and faster, the wind tearing past him. He could see the ground rushing up to meet him, but just as he was about to hit, a figure appeared below, silver and strong, standing like a beacon in the darkness.

Iron Knight.

Silas reached out, stretching his hand toward the figure, desperate, and Iron Knight looked up, his gaze steady, unwavering. But then, just as their hands were about to touch, the ground vanished, and Silas was falling again, endlessly.

He awoke with a gasp, his body drenched in sweat, his heart pounding as though he were still in freefall. The room was dim, the pale morning light creeping through the single window, casting long shadows on the walls. It took him a moment to remember where he was, to shake off the lingering traces of the nightmare.

The room was small and bare, sunlight filtering weakly through the blinds. It wasn’t home. And that realization sent a fresh wave of dread through him. He rubbed his eyes, trying to steady his breath. The visions had felt so real. Too real.

A creak at the door made him tense. He turned quickly, expecting… he wasn’t sure what. But when the door opened, it was Steve Gallagher standing there, his face lined with worry and exhaustion. Silas stared, caught between relief and confusion.

“Silas?” Steve’s voice was soft, but there was a note of urgency in it. He stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. “You okay?”

Silas nodded slowly, his body still trembling. “I think so.” He swallowed hard, trying to make sense of everything. “Steve… how are you here?”

Steve hesitated, taking a step closer. “I got a call. An anonymous tip. They said you were in danger and gave me this address. I came as soon as I could.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “What happened to you?”

Silas’s mind raced. He remembered being in the VR pod, the visions, the Iron Knight fighting off Doyle’s thugs. But now Steve was here, claiming he’d been tipped off. It didn’t add up. “I don’t know,” Silas said, his voice low. “It’s… a blur.” He looked up, meeting Steve’s gaze. “The Iron Knight saved me.”

Steve’s expression remained carefully neutral, but he moved closer, pulling up a chair and sitting across from Silas. “The Iron Knight?” he asked, as if trying to piece it together. “He was there?”

Silas nodded, a mix of awe and confusion on his face. “He cut me loose. Fought off the guys who grabbed me.”

Steve exhaled, his eyes softening with what seemed to be genuine relief. “Good. I’m glad he was there.” He leaned forward, his voice low and earnest. “But Silas, I need to know everything you can remember. No matter how small. What happened in that arcade? What did they do to you?”

Silas pressed his hands to his temples, trying to steady the swirling memories. “It started when we went to the arcade, remember?” He looked at Steve, eyes pleading for understanding. “When you snuck me in. We were just having fun, right?”

Steve’s jaw clenched, guilt flickering across his face. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “We were just cutting loose. This is my fault.”

Silas’s anger softened at the raw guilt in Steve’s voice. “You couldn’t have known,” he said, though the words felt hollow. “I didn’t know.” He paused, his voice trembling. “Steve, it was more than just a game. I saw… things. Felt things I can’t explain.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed, concern deepening. “What did you see?”

Silas hesitated, the memories of the faceless figure, the light, and Allison’s malevolent grin flashing through his mind. “I don’t know how to describe it. There was a light. A figure. And then… shadows. Her.” He didn’t say Allison’s name, but the fear in his eyes said enough.

Steve leaned back, absorbing Silas’s words. “Whatever it was, it’s left a mark,” he said softly. “You’re not imagining it.”

Silas stared at the floor, the weight of it all pressing down on him. “Steve… I don’t even know who I am anymore. Or what I am.”

Steve’s expression hardened with determination. “You’re Silas. And whatever’s happening, we’ll get to the bottom of it. Together.”

Silas looked up, the suspicion still lingering but tempered by a glimmer of hope. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Steve said, his voice steady.

Silas nodded, feeling a little more grounded. “I met the Iron Knight,” he said, a hint of awe returning to his voice. “He was right there.”

Steve forced a smile, hiding the pain behind his eyes. “Yeah? What was he like?”

“Strong. Focused. Like he knew exactly what to do,” Silas said. He paused, his voice dropping. “I wish I was like that.”

Steve leaned forward, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You will be,” he said quietly. “Just give it time.”

Silas nodded, the weight of the past few days pressing down on him. He didn’t have all the answers, but for the first time, he felt like he wasn’t facing this alone.

The conversation left him with more questions than answers, but it also gave him something he desperately needed—a glimmer of hope. Silas nodded, feeling slightly more grounded. But as the adrenaline ebbed away, a new wave of anxiety crashed over him. “Steve… I haven’t been home. My mom… she must be losing it. She’ll think I’m—” His voice cracked. “I need to let her know I’m okay.”

Steve paused, his expression softening. “Of course. Here.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a sleek comm device, and handed it to Silas. “Call her.”

Silas took it with trembling hands, punching in his mom’s number. Each ring felt like an eternity, his heart pounding with every second that passed. Finally, the call went to voicemail. Silas swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Hey, Mom. It’s me, Silas. I’m… I’m okay. I know I should’ve been home by now, but something came up.” He glanced at Steve, who gave him a reassuring nod. “I’ll explain everything when I can. I promise. Just… please don’t worry. I’ll be home soon.” He ended the call, his shoulders slumping as he handed the comm back to Steve.

“Voicemail,” Silas muttered, a mix of relief and guilt in his eyes. “She’s probably so mad at me.”

Steve nodded, his expression serious but understanding. “She’ll be worried, yeah. But you did what you could.” He paused, placing a reassuring hand on Silas’s shoulder. “We’ll get you home. Just… we need to make sure it’s safe first.”

Silas nodded again, the weight of everything pressing down on him. “Yeah… I know.” He glanced back at the phone, feeling the ache of being cut off from the life he knew. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Anytime, kid,” Steve said softly. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

Silas looked down, trying to hold back his anxiety. The jumbled fragments of memory from the arcade—the visions of an eerie, faceless figure guiding people, the confusion and almost hypnotic allure—stayed vivid in his mind.

Steve gave him a steady look. “Come on.” He said waving toward the door, “I’ve got equipment in my lab that should help us understand what happened. We need to find out what Kisonic is really doing with that technology.”

Silas woke up to the sharp thud of a broom hitting the side of his bed. He shot up, disoriented, barely catching sight of his mother’s frustrated expression before the broom came down again, smacking the floor this time. She was already in motion, sweeping with a mix of purpose and irritation.

“Oh, you finally awake,” she said, the edge in her voice unmistakable. She didn’t stop her cleaning, not even for a second. “Hope you ready to explain yourself, Silas, ’cause you got some nerve.”

“Wha—huh?” Silas rubbed at his eyes, trying to piece together his fractured memories. The last thing he remembered was blinding light, strange visions... and Steve. But now he was back home, facing his mother’s wrath.

“Don’t play dumb,” she snapped, pausing long enough to point the broom in his direction. “Steve—your friend—brought you in here last night, slumped over like a rag doll. Said you had a ‘rough night.’ You know how that made me look?”

“Steve?” Silas croaked. The pieces started to click together. Steve must’ve covered for him, but not in a way that helped his case.

“Yeah, Steve,” she said, her voice dripping with disbelief. “He had to carry you in here. You better believe I had questions, but you? Out cold. So, what was it? Out partyin’? You think you grown enough to come home like that?”

“Mom, it’s not what you think,” Silas tried, but she was already sweeping again, her motions hard and fast.

“I’ll tell you what I think.” She stopped to fix him with a glare that could cut glass. “I think you got work today. And I think you’re gonna haul yourself up, wash that stink off, and get to it. No excuses.”

Silas sighed, the weight of exhaustion settling back over him. “Fine,” he muttered, pushing himself out of bed. His mother didn’t move, just watched him with that mix of frustration and worry she tried so hard to hide.

“You got ten minutes,” she said, turning back to her cleaning. “Don’t make me come back in here.”

He nodded, shuffling to the bathroom as his headache pounded. The water was cold, shocking him fully awake. Whatever happened last night wasn’t over—not by a long shot. But right now, surviving the day was priority number one.

Silas took a quick shower and an attempt to look halfway presentable. His mother stood by the door, arms crossed. “Be home on time,” she said, her voice softening just a bit. “And don’t make this a habit.”

“Got it,” he said, managing a small smile before stepping outside. As he pulled on his worn-out jacket, Silas grabbed his lunch, a hastily wrapped sandwich, and stepped out the door, ready to make his way to the factory. Before he even made it onto the front porch he noticed a piece of paper folded up in his pocket that wasn't there before. It was a note from Steve:

“Just go to work. Act normal. It's just a regular day. I'll explain later.”

Still unsure of the details, and only certain of his immediate duties, he stepped onto the sidewalk and made his way to work. The industrial district was already buzzing with life, the roar of machinery echoing through the streets as he approached the factory gates.

Inside, it was the same routine. Conveyor belts hummed along, workers moved in unison, and supervisors paced up and down the line, making sure everything stayed on track. Silas took his place at his usual station—a tedious control panel monitoring machine output. He settled in, ready for a mind-numbing day of button-pushing and system checks.

Then, something strange happened.

As soon as Silas tapped the first button, the factory floor responded. Not in the usual way—this was different. The conveyor belt adjusted its speed, the robotic arms started working with a precision that even the engineers would have envied, and the machines seemed to hum with an energy that Silas had never felt before.

“What the…?” Silas muttered under his breath, watching in confusion as the machinery moved like it had a mind of its own.

He glanced around. No one seemed to notice. The workers were too busy with their own tasks to pay attention to the sudden efficiency that had overtaken his station. Silas tried to shake it off, chalking it up to a random fluke.

But the day only got weirder.

Every button he pressed, every command he gave—intentionally or otherwise—was met with perfect execution by the factory’s machinery. Conveyor belts shifted, production lines sped up, and even minor maintenance issues seemed to solve themselves.

It didn’t take long for the workers around him to notice.

“Yo, Silas! What’s your secret, man? You’re running this place like clockwork!” one of the workers called out with a grin.

“Yeah, you got some new tech in that panel or something?” another joked.

Silas forced a smile, feeling a growing sense of unease. He didn’t know what was happening, but it felt too perfect. The machines weren’t just working faster—they were responding to his thoughts. If he wanted a panel adjusted, it shifted. If he needed more inventory moved, the system did it before he even hit a button.

The entire section of the factory was running at a speed no one had ever seen. Supervisors were wandering by, nodding approvingly, while his coworkers gave him thumbs up.

In the distance, he could hear the hum of machinery still running, still adjusting. He wondered how long he could keep this up without drawing too much attention. Maybe Steve’s advice to act normal wasn’t so easy after all.

Elsewhere, across town…

The soft click of shoes echoed in the dimly lit corridor. Steve Gallagher, dressed in a janitor’s uniform, pushed his cart down the hallway of Kisonic Enterprises’ towering office building. His eyes, sharp as ever, scanned the area under the brim of his cap. This wasn’t his first infiltration job, but it was easily the most important one he’d handled in a while.

The executives here—particularly the one he was after—were tangled up in enough corruption to choke the life out of the city. Mutant trafficking, illegal tech deals, and off-the-books experiments. Steve had seen it all before, but now, he was on the verge of gathering the last piece of evidence he needed to blow this wide open.

He stopped by a trash can near the executive offices, casually pulling out a set of cleaning supplies. To anyone else, he was just a janitor, going about his business, wiping down countertops and emptying bins. But to Steve, every step brought him closer to the vault of information stored on the upper floors.

As he wiped down a desk, he slid a small listening device into the corner of the room. His hands moved with purpose, his expression calm, but inside his mind was a storm of thoughts.

Can’t mess this up. One slip, and they’ll know.

He wasn’t Iron Knight here—he was Steve, undercover, one man against a web of lies and greed. He could feel the weight of the task pressing down on him, but he thrived in these moments. Years of experience had taught him patience, to move slow, blend in, and wait for the right moment to strike.

With a final glance over his shoulder, Steve moved on to the next room, his heart beating a little faster.

Soon. Very soon.

Back at the factory, Silas was just trying to survive the day. The machines had now fully adapted to him, whirring and shifting like they were dancing to his tune. Supervisors were starting to ask questions, but Silas, still in the dark about his technopathic abilities, could only offer confused shrugs.

As he sat down at the control panel, the thought crossed his mind again: How am I supposed to act normal when everything is acting so… weird?

Little did he know, this was only the beginning.

Silas leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the control panel. The factory around him was still humming with activity, more alive than ever. Every flick of his fingers, every absent-minded thought, seemed to send the machinery into overdrive. It was like the whole place had synchronized to his rhythm, and the more he tried to stop thinking about it, the worse it got.

Workers in the distance exchanged glances, whispering about the mysterious uptick in productivity. Supervisors were pacing with furrowed brows, clearly pleased but also suspicious. No one could figure out what had changed, but the consensus was that Silas had something to do with it.

“Hey, Silas!” one of the guys from the line shouted over the clatter of machines. “You got some magic button back there or what? You’ve turned this place into a goldmine!”

Silas chuckled nervously and waved, pretending to enjoy the attention. Inside, he was spiraling. Magic button? He wished it were that simple. What was he supposed to say? Sorry, guys, I think I accidentally became the factory’s overlord?

The conveyor belts in front of him adjusted again without his input. Parts and materials flowed seamlessly, assembling themselves faster than the workers could keep up. A forklift turned a corner and parked itself in exactly the right spot. The whole place was running like a well-oiled machine—and all of it because of Silas, though he still didn’t know how.

His technopathy, though not yet fully understood, was in full swing. The factory itself was responding to his subconscious thoughts, working smarter and faster as if it were under his control. He could feel it now—a strange sense of connection to the machines, like they were an extension of him. It was as exciting as it was terrifying.

By the time the lunch bell rang, Silas was feeling the heat. The supervisors were coming around more frequently, glancing at him with a mix of approval and curiosity. He could tell they were starting to wonder how one guy could be so good at his job, and it wouldn’t be long before they started asking more questions.

He stood up from the control panel and headed to the breakroom, hoping to catch a moment to think. But even as he walked away, the machines didn’t stop working—they kept churning away, following his unspoken commands like loyal servants.

In the breakroom, the workers were buzzing.

“Have you seen the output numbers? We’re way ahead of schedule!” a burly man named Dave said, his mouth half-full of a sandwich.

“Yeah, it’s like someone flipped a switch. We’re breaking records!” another worker added, glancing over at Silas. He managed a half-smile, though inside he felt like he was on the verge of a meltdown.

The questions kept coming, and though the attention was mostly friendly, Silas knew it was only a matter of time before someone higher up started asking for explanations. Executives didn’t care about luck. They wanted answers—and they wanted control.

Across town, in the shadowy offices of Kisonic Enterprises...

Steve Gallagher, still in his janitor’s uniform, moved quietly through the executive wing. He’d been working his cover for weeks now, slowly embedding himself deeper into the corporation’s inner workings. This was where the real dirt was—the place where deals were made in secret, and lives were ruined without a second thought.

He had to be careful. One wrong move, and they’d see right through his disguise.

The halls were mostly empty, with the corporate elite either at meetings or behind closed doors. Steve pushed his cleaning cart toward a conference room, eyes sharp under the brim of his cap. He knew his target would be here today—the executive he’d been tracking. A man named Vance Doyle, the head of one of Kisonic’s most profitable yet corrupt divisions.

Doyle had ties to the mutant trafficking rings, and Steve was close to securing the final piece of evidence he needed to bring him down. But the closer he got, the more dangerous things became. Doyle had his own security detail, and the company’s surveillance systems were some of the most advanced in the city.

As Steve reached the conference room, he casually pulled out a mop and started cleaning the floors, his movements slow and deliberate. Behind him, the door to the room was slightly ajar. Inside, Doyle and a group of executives were deep in conversation. Steve could hear snippets of their discussion.

“…we can’t afford another delay. The factory’s numbers are impressive, but if we don’t get the shipments out on time, the entire deal could collapse.”

Steve’s hand tightened around the mop handle. He knew which factory they were talking about. The very same one where Silas was unknowingly boosting productivity. They had no idea who—or what—was behind the surge, but they were already plotting how to exploit it.

“Doyle,” one of the other men said, “we need to keep an eye on the new guy at the factory. Rumor has it he’s responsible for the uptick. Something’s not adding up.”

Steve’s pulse quickened. Silas was already on their radar. It was worse than he thought.

He continued mopping, moving closer to the door, as his mind raced. But his thoughts were interrupted by a sharp voice.

“You there!” It was Doyle.

Steve didn’t flinch. He turned slowly, keeping his expression blank as Doyle looked him up and down.

“Make sure you clean this place thoroughly. We’ve got a lot riding on these deals, and I don’t want a single detail out of place.”

Steve gave a small nod. “Yes, sir.”

Doyle narrowed his eyes for a moment, then turned back to the others. Steve quietly exhaled and continued cleaning, but his mind was already planning the next steps.

I have to get to Silas before they do.

Back at the factory…

Silas returned to his station after lunch, feeling the pressure mounting. The machines were still running perfectly, adjusting to his every thought. It was almost comical how smoothly things were going. He could barely keep up the act of pushing buttons, knowing full well the factory was practically running itself.

As he sat down at the control panel, a supervisor approached, clipboard in hand.

“Silas, you’re doing great work here, but the execs are asking questions. How are you keeping things so efficient? We’ve never seen numbers like this before.”

Silas swallowed hard. “I dunno, just trying my best. Maybe we’re all just… working better together?”

The supervisor raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Well, keep it up. But don’t be surprised if they come down here to see for themselves.”

As the supervisor walked away, Silas’s heart raced. He could feel the walls closing in.

How am I supposed to keep this up?

The machines around him hummed in response, as if waiting for his next unspoken command.

Until now.

Silas shifted uncomfortably at his station, his fingers hovering over the control panel. He didn’t even need to press the buttons anymore; the machines were responding to his thoughts before he made a move. Conveyor belts adjusted, robotic arms shifted, and the entire production line was moving faster than it ever had. And yet, he could feel eyes on him—watching, waiting.

He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the unease that was building in his chest. Maybe they won’t notice. He’d been telling himself that all day, but the feeling wouldn’t go away.

As he worked, a pair of men in dark suits appeared at the far end of the factory. They stood out against the usual crowd of workers and supervisors, their postures rigid, their eyes scanning the area. Silas spotted them out of the corner of his eye and stiffened.

They were coming for him.

He kept his head down, pretending to be engrossed in his work, but his mind was racing. What do they want? How do they know?

The men approached, their footsteps almost drowned out by the noise of the machinery. Silas kept working, trying to look as normal as possible, but the closer they got, the harder it became to concentrate. His thoughts, once a clear connection to the machines, were becoming muddled with fear.

Finally, they reached his station.

"Silas, right?" one of them said, his voice low and sharp.

Silas looked up, trying to keep his expression neutral. "Yeah, that’s me. Can I help you?"

The other man stepped forward, his eyes cold. "We’ve been watching you. The factory’s been running smoother than ever, and from what we hear, you’re the common factor."

Silas shifted in his seat, forcing a laugh. "Just doing my job. Must be a lucky streak or something."

The first man’s face darkened. "Don’t play dumb with us. We know what you’re doing. You’re a TK, aren’t you?"

Silas blinked. "What? No. I’m just… I’m not a TK."

The accusation hung in the air like a threat. Telekinetics, or TKs, were rare, and the implications of being one—especially inside a corporate-owned factory—were dangerous. TKs were feared and often hunted down by the government or exploited by those who knew how to control them.

The second man stepped closer, his voice a harsh whisper. "Don’t lie to us. We’ve seen the footage. Machines don’t just… work like this on their own. They’re responding to you. No human can run a factory like this."

Silas’s heart was pounding in his chest. Footage? They’d been watching him more closely than he realized.

"I’m telling you, I’m not a TK," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m just doing my job like everyone else."

The men exchanged glances, their suspicion deepening. The first man leaned in, his voice dangerously low. "We don’t care how you’re doing it, but the higher-ups want answers. Doyle wants answers."

Silas’s stomach dropped at the mention of the name. Vance Doyle—the executive who’s name had been whispered around the factory, though Silas hadn’t paid much attention at the time. Doyle was dangerous, involved in all sorts of dirty dealings. If he was interested in Silas, things were worse than he thought.

"Look," Silas said, his voice more urgent now. "I don’t know how things are running better, okay? It’s not me. I’m just a guy pressing buttons. You’ve got the wrong idea."

The second man grabbed his arm, pulling him out of his seat with surprising force. "Enough of this. You’re coming with us."

Panic surged through Silas. He pulled back instinctively, but the man’s grip tightened. "Hey! Wait a minute! I didn’t do anything!"

The factory around them continued to hum, oblivious to the confrontation. Workers nearby glanced over but quickly returned to their tasks, not wanting to get involved.

"We don’t have time for this," the first man said, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Doyle’s waiting. You’re going to tell him exactly how you’re pulling this off."

Silas struggled, his pulse racing. "I’m telling you, I don’t know anything! I’m not a TK!"

But the men weren’t listening. They dragged him away from his station, moving him toward the back of the factory where a service exit led to a private loading area. Silas’s heart pounded in his chest as the reality of the situation hit him. They weren’t just supervisors looking for answers—they were enforcers, working directly for Doyle. And now, they had him.

As they pushed him through the exit and into the cold air outside, Silas’s mind raced. He didn’t understand his technopathy yet, but whatever it was, it had just gotten him into serious trouble.

The men shoved him into the back of a waiting vehicle, slamming the door behind him. Silas sat in the dark, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

"I’m not a TK," he whispered again, but the words felt hollow. He didn’t even know what he was anymore.

The car started moving, and Silas could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him. If they thought he was a TK, they’d either exploit him or worse. And if Doyle was involved, there was no telling how far they’d go to get what they wanted.

He had to figure out a way out of this.

Meanwhile, across town…

Steve Gallagher, still in his janitor’s uniform, stood in the shadows of a high-rise office building, his eyes locked on the entrance to a luxury penthouse suite. Inside, Vance Doyle was preparing for a deal that Steve had been tracking for weeks. This was the moment he’d been waiting for—the chance to finally expose Doyle for the corrupt scum he was.

But as Steve watched, his comms crackled to life with a coded message. It was a direct line from his informant inside the factory.

"They’ve got Silas," the voice whispered.

Steve’s grip tightened on the earpiece. Silas? Was this about their stolen joyride of the VR machine? He hadn’t expected the factory to catch on to the kid so quickly. Silas was supposed to be laying low.

"They think he’s a TK," the voice continued. "They’re bringing him to Doyle. You have to move."

Steve’s jaw clenched. He was so close to taking down Doyle, but now Silas was in the middle of it. The kid didn’t even do anything, and now he was being dragged into something way over his head.

Steve’s mind raced as he turned away from the penthouse and disappeared into the shadows, the Iron Knight once again preparing for battle.

His fingers tightened around the handlebars as he weaved between cars, his eyes narrowing in determination. The truck carrying Silas was just ahead, slipping through traffic like a ghost. Steve had to intercept it before they reached Doyle’s fortress of an office.

In moments like this, the line between Steve Gallagher and the Iron Knight blurred. His mind was focused, calculating every move, but his heart was heavy with the responsibility of protecting someone who wasn’t ready for this fight. Stay strong, kid. I’m coming.

In the back of the truck...

Silas was in darkness, his mind racing as the vehicle rumbled along. His wrists were tied, and his pulse quickened with every bump in the road. The men who had grabbed him were silent, and the tension in the air was thick. They thought he was a TK, and though he had denied it, they weren’t going to take any chances. They were taking him straight to Doyle.

I’ve got to get out of here. Silas shifted uncomfortably, trying to think through his panic. His mind raced as he considered his options, but none of them looked good. Then, a thought hit him. The truck… the machines…

He closed his eyes, focusing on the faint hum of the truck’s engine, the steady rhythm of the machinery beneath him. His technopathy—the thing that had gotten him into this mess—was also his way out. He could feel the pulse of the truck’s systems, the way they moved, the way they responded to subtle commands.

Okay, let’s see if this works.

Silas concentrated, reaching out with his mind, feeling the way the gears shifted, how the engine powered the wheels. With a sudden jolt, he willed the truck to slow down, imagining the engine cutting off.

The truck sputtered and then stalled. He heard the driver curse as the vehicle ground to a halt in the middle of traffic. Silas couldn’t help but smile, despite the tension coiled in his chest. Maybe this technopathy thing isn’t so bad.

Outside...

Steve spotted the truck as it slowed to a stop. Good, Silas, you clever kid. He revved his motorcycle, closing the distance quickly. The thugs were already getting out of the truck, confused by the sudden breakdown. They didn’t see him coming until it was too late.

Steve vaulted off the bike mid-ride, landing hard on one of the men, sending him crashing to the pavement. Before the others could react, Steve was on them, fists flying, armor absorbing every blow they tried to land. His movements were precise, practiced. Years of training had made him the perfect one-man army, and tonight, that training was paying off.

Silas, still tied up in the back of the truck, heard the commotion and banged on the door. “Hey! Hey! Someone’s out there!” The noise was deafening—grunts, crashes, and then the unmistakable sound of something heavy hitting the pavement.

Suddenly, the back doors of the truck were ripped open, and there he was—the Iron Knight.

Silas stared in awe as the armored figure stood in front of him, sunlight reflecting off his sleek black armor. He had seen the Iron Knight before on the news, but never like this, never up close. For a moment, Silas forgot to breathe.

“You okay, kid?” Iron Knight’s voice was deep, resonant, and filled with a calm that contrasted the chaos around him.

Silas nodded dumbly. “Y-yeah, I’m fine. Just… tied up.”

With a swift motion, Iron Knight cut through the ropes binding Silas’s wrists. “Let’s get you out of here.”

But before they could move, one of the thugs lunged at Iron Knight from behind, a metal pipe raised high. Silas’s heart leapt into his throat, and without thinking, he grabbed the nearest thing he could find—a rock. With all his might, he threw it at the thug’s head, hitting him square between the eyes. The man stumbled, clutching his forehead, and dropped the pipe.

Iron Knight turned, saw the thug go down, and glanced back at Silas, a small smirk hidden beneath his mask. “Nice shot.” He gave Silas a thumbs up before turning back to finish the fight.

In one swift motion, Iron Knight disarmed the last two thugs, sending them sprawling to the ground with a few expertly placed strikes. The fight was over as quickly as it had begun.

Silas stood there, wide-eyed. “Holy crap… I hit him.”

Iron Knight approached him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Gutsy move, kid. You did good.”

Silas felt a swell of pride, even though his legs were still shaking. “Thanks. I mean, you did most of the work, but… thanks.”

Iron Knight motioned to the nearby alley. “Come on. I’ve got a safe house nearby. You’re staying put until I take care of Doyle.”

Hours later, in the safe house...

The safe house was a quiet, nondescript apartment tucked away in the outskirts of the city. Iron Knight guided Silas inside, making sure the doors were locked and the windows secured.

“Stay here,” Iron Knight said firmly. “Doyle’s still out there, and I need to handle this. You’ll be safe here.”

Silas, still buzzing with adrenaline, nodded. “What are you going to do?”

Iron Knight paused for a moment, his back to Silas. “Bring justice.” With that, he turned and walked out the door, leaving Silas alone in the quiet apartment.

Downtown, under the glow of a full moon...

Vance Doyle stood in a lavish office atop his skyscraper, overlooking the city. His men were preparing for the final phase of a heist that would make him untouchable—at least, in his mind. Everything was falling into place, and no one was the wiser.

At least, that’s what he thought.

Suddenly, the windows shattered, and in the center of the room stood the Iron Knight, silhouetted against the full moon, his presence overwhelming. He stepped forward, his voice echoing with authority.

“Vance Doyle!” he called out, his voice cold and steady. “I am the Iron Knight, keeper of justice in the City of Rivers. Your reign of corruption ends tonight.”

Doyle’s men scrambled, panic spreading like wildfire, but Doyle himself stood frozen, his face paling in the moonlight.

The Iron Knight stood tall, the full moon casting his shadow across the room, an unstoppable force ready to deliver judgment.

Iron Knight Voice Log Day 2073

“Every choice carries weight. I made a call, left a mission unfinished, and now I’m hoping it wasn’t the wrong one. Silas is safe, for now. But he’s changed. Whatever happened in that VR pod... it was more than just some glitch. The kid’s scared, and he has every right to be. And the worst part? I don’t have any answers. All I can do is keep him close, try to protect him from the shadows closing in. I hope it’s enough.”