Empires | Arc 1 | Chapter 2 | Second Chances

A bright, sunny morning in Titan City. A 5’9″ man in a blue Noragi jacket and same-color loose pajamas, like a martial artist would wear, and black Feiyu shoes enters Titan City from its east side.

The east side area is basically a savanna meeting the jungle, mostly long, tall standing trees; the air there smells like raw soil and leaves.

Unlike the previous figures, this guy is more grounded. As he enters, he helps an old lady who has bags and is having trouble getting into a taxi. He holds them up until she gets in and closes the door, then he himself puts the bags in the trunk, taking in the blessings that the old lady offers. As she leaves, he goes on walking.

He sees this city is much different from where he comes from—big buildings, cars, and vehicles he rarely sees at his place, though the air is much fresher around his home, in which he takes great pride.

He decides to take an early lunch at a street-side restaurant, requesting the owner, “No, sir, I would rather sit outside.”

The owner sighs and says, “Son, I just opened up. I haven’t even set up the tables and chairs outside yet.”

He smiles and says, “Don’t worry, sir, happy to help,” as he takes two chairs in one hand and a table in another and starts setting it up. In moments that are almost impossible even for the topmost athlete of Titan City to achieve, the young man does it.

The middle-aged owner brings out his food—noodles with fried eggs—smiles, and asks, “What is your name, son?”

The young man looks up, saying, “Jarrod, sir!”

After finishing his lunch, as he crosses a building that is yet to be of significance to him, he sees the building appears quieter than normal. Jarrod is not a city guy, but even he knows that a high-rise facility like that isn’t supposed to be that quiet. So, Jarrod enters, only to encounter around seven men in black suits, tall and muscular, pointing what looks like laser or plasma guns at a small group of people inside the building.

The men have gathered all these people on the ground floor. The glass windows are one-sided, hence no one from the street can see what is going on inside. Not to mention, anyone would think twice before entering a high-rise building like this one, simply because of its reputation.

There is a guy in particular in a silver or light gray suit giving off that same helpful vibe—Friling—at the front. In the middle are some people who work there, and a girl far back against the wall. All of them are sitting on the ground, but the girl, Lesca, has something about her. Her knees are up, elbows on her knees, looking bored and detached, even in a situation such as this where even hardened professionals would piss their pants.

Seeing it, Jarrod slides back into a corner to observe. The men are definitely here for some type of energy source, but since they are quite far away, Jarrod cannot hear them. The situation takes a turn when one of the gunmen points at Friling, who looks like he has made peace with the fact that he might die, but he is still standing his ground between the civilians and the intruders.

Jarrod tap-foots, trying to get closer. Thanks to his particular tai chi shoes, the footsteps are impossible to hear, especially in a tense situation such as that!

Jarrod extends his hand toward one of the men, palms out. At first, nothing happens; there is no change in the environment, nor any new sound or voice except for the sobbing and whimpers.

Then, that man slowly starts to pull backward toward Jarrod‘s hands. But it is very slow; it is almost like Jarrod is a magnet, but since the men are bigger and heavier, the effect is taking time. The other men get alerted quickly, turn toward where Jarrod is, and start firing their guns.

Jarrod puts down that hand and uses his other hand toward the wall.

Since the wall is heavier than Jarrod is, instead of pushing the wall away, Jarrod gets pulled toward it, effectively dodging the laser shots—which make a hole even in steel—and plasma shots, which melt down wood, steel, plastic, and almost even a concrete wall like honey.

Friling, seeing a chance, hits the man who is close to him on the chin with open palms, shocking him. He follows with a knee kick to lower his stance and shake his footing, and a neck punch to make him unconscious.

The remaining six men are confused about who to shoot. Jarrod sees this chance; he puts his palms toward the nearby tables, chairs, and flower pots—anything that is heavy but not heavier than his own body weight—and throws them toward the intruders.

As they get bombarded with nearby decorations and furniture, Jarrod uses pull again on the walls to close the gap between him and them. He knocks them off, using his pull to bring two guys together, or dragging their guns—snatching the weapons away from them using pull—while using push on the floor to literally jump or hover over them as they try to tackle him.

Friling takes out another guy who is about to shoot the innocent people in the middle. After defeating them, Friling finally looks at him with a grateful smile, saying, “Thank you… for saving us.”

Jarrod, knocking another guy out with a kick, says with a wave of his hand, “Nah, you handled half of them, so I guess the credit is 50/50.”

As they are conversing, one guy—the one that Friling knocked out first—shoots a laser shot toward Lesca, who just got up and is wiping her pants. Jarrod‘s lightning-fast reaction is the wall behind Lesca.

As usual, the pull mechanic activates as Jarrod thinks about closing the gap first, then using his body as a shield or using pull to move Lesca out of the way. But he gets in the crossfire, and a laser gunshot is always faster than even a magnetic pull.

Jarrod gets shot in his right arm with the laser. The shot is so powerful that his arm is cut off, falls from his body, and lands on the ground.

Friling picks up a nearby gun, points it toward the man, and is about to shoot, but Jarrod roars—half in pain, but the other half is pure certainty—“DON’T!”

Friling, confused, uses the gun to knock the man out cold again and runs toward Jarrod, who is holding his right arm down close to his body, severed from a little high up the elbow. He is on his knees. As Friling appears and kneels beside him, any man in Jarrod‘s place would be screaming, crying, or at the very least going unconscious, but he does not.

Friling closes his eyes and his back starts to twitch, like something—specifically two things—is coming out of his middle back. Finally, his suit gets ripped off as two magnificent silver wings come out, easily twice his size. The hostages do not look surprised, and most of the intruders are out cold, while the others are in too much pain to comprehend what is going on.

Lesca simply leans back onto the wall, arms crossed with an unreadable expression. The wings do not look normal like a general bird’s wings, but more divine and angelic, and there is a certain glow about them that washes over the room as the sunlight falls onto them!

Friling looks at Jarrod‘s severed bloody arm and the lower half of it on the floor. He picks it up as two feathers get out automatically from his wings. One stabs into Jarrod‘s arm. As a human reaction, Jarrod closes one eye, bracing for impact, but no pain comes. As Jarrod stares, feeling completely dumbfounded, another feather pierces the severed arm. Both the feathers then turn into threads as Friling brings that lower half close to the upper, and it gets sealed away! Brand new, like nothing ever happened; the only proof is the blood that dropped during the cut phase.

Both stand up as Friling says, “The nervous system will take some time to restore… maybe a few hours. But no damage has been done, and the tissues were still alive.”

Jarrod asks, “What’s the name of your Heat?”

Friling shyly looks at his polished shoes and says, “Raphael’s Wings!”

Jarrod bows a little to thank Friling for his help that saved his arm, and finally turns to Lesca and asks, “Don’t you have Heat?… I mean, the way you were sitting there, I thought you definitely have one.”

Lesca just keeps on staring at him, but it is Friling who answers, saying, “No… hers is a little… complicated!”

One of the younger civilians asks an older one, “Sir, what are they talking about?… What is Heat?”

The older guy stills, looking for injuries on his body, and says, “Ha…ha, what?…” He takes a moment and continues, “It’s our energy signature, son… Some of us have a powerful presence… you know, like when someone enters a room and every head turns.”

The young guy says, “What’s that got to do with anything… it’s like… it’s—”

Jarrod walks to him, saying, “It is Heat, my friend. Our body picks up someone’s presence even before our mind does… but in some cases, those presences are so strong that we can literally see them.”

The younger guy looks at Jarrod with a squinted eye, clearly signaling he only got half of it.

Friling, holding his sister and checking for her injuries, says, “It is when our energy signature manifests in our 3D reality from the metaphysical realms of 5D.”

The younger guy’s eyes brighten up, and he slowly nods, taking it all in.

The focus again shifts from them to Friling, who looks toward the intruders and asks, “What do we do with them?”

Lesca‘s reply is lightning fast. “Kill them!”

Jarrod says, “No. Let them go.”

Friling asks, “Why?”

Jarrod replies, “Second chances… They deserve a chance to find a purpose. A purpose which satisfies their calling… even if it is a thirst for chaos. But in a way that it doesn’t affect those who demand peace. We owe it to them, at least.”

Everyone looks confused, like Jarrod spoke a language they do not understand.

Lesca, looking at them, takes a step toward them and asks, “And what about if that purpose leads to hurting innocents…again?”

Jarrod looks at her with a smile, saying, “Then I will have to stop them again.”

One of the civilians hesitantly asks, “Why not kill them and be done with it?”

Jarrod says, looking outside the window toward the bright sky, “Because that is not in our hands… we do not have the power to create and destroy… we are here to live and let live. Taking one of those powers is a responsibility you do not want, my friend.”

Everyone goes quiet.

Later, as Jarrod leaves the building and the city security arrives, Friling chases him down and asks him where he is going.

Jarrod simply says, “I am just passing through, my friend.”

Friling requests him to stay, saying, “What you said, that was… that… hasn’t been said here in a long time. If you are not in a hurry, you can stay with us for a while as our guest.” Taking a step closer, Friling adds, “As my friend.”

After a little bit of hesitation, Friling continues, “The city is losing its light… and its purpose… the core of what Titan City is. But you, Jarrod, proved the meaning of it and that it still lives on. The people… me… my sister… I think we need someone like you more than ever.”

Jarrod looks toward the setting sun as it paints a bloody sky, a playful hide-and-seek between light and darkness. He finally turns to Friling and nods, taking his offer.

Meanwhile, the focus shifts to Lesca, who is seen going into what looks like a temporary holding cell. The security of Titan City, seeing her walking toward them, bow and leave. Lesca opens the door and walks in where the intruders are being held up, all seven of them. As we see the last remaining light of the sun fading down, moments later, agonizing screams like from the depths of hell, tortured souls—a torture that is painful for both body and soul—come out.

A maroon aura is seen through the glass windows and the peaks of the closed doors.

Then zip, nothing but pin-drop silence as we see Lesca simply coming out of the room, the room that is now empty, buttoning her princess coat.