Blood and Sparks: The Edge of Power

The city was a carcass—gutted buildings, streets choked with ash and wreckage. The van rattled over broken pavement, Tucker weaving around obstacles like he'd done this a hundred times. Maybe he had. I sat shotgun, tire iron wedged between my knees, watching the world blur past in shades of gray and ruin.

Rylan slumped in the back, barking directions between gritted teeth. "Left at the next split—avoid the plaza, it's a killbox."

"Got it," Tucker grunted, yanking the wheel. The van lurched, tires screeching.

Liv leaned forward from the middle seat, pistol tapping her thigh. "Kai, that weapon—how far from your place?"

"Half a block," I said, picturing it. "Dropped right where the Skraith went down."

"Good," she muttered. "Quick grab, then we're gone."

Jace fidgeted with his stun baton, sparks popping. "If it's still there."

"It will be," I said, sharper than I meant. "No one's looting alien tech in this mess."

He shrugged. "Hope you're right."

The streets narrowed, buildings crowding in. My apartment block loomed ahead, a cracked silhouette against the smoke. Tucker slowed, easing into the alley where I'd parked earlier. The air was thick, heavy with that sour alien stink.

"Eyes up," Rylan said, voice tight. "They could be anywhere."

I climbed out first, tire iron ready, the hum in me steady at 19 hours. The others fanned out—Liv and Jace flanking, Tucker guarding the van, Rylan limping behind. The street was quiet, too quiet, the alien corpse still sprawled where it fell. Its weapon lay beside it, glowing faint, a twisted rod of dark metal pulsing like it had a heartbeat.

I crouched, reaching for it. My system flared. Unknown Technology Detected. Energy Signature: Unstable. Analysis Recommended.

"Yeah, no kidding," I whispered, wrapping my hand around it. It was warm, thrumming against my skin, heavier than it looked.

"Got it?" Liv hissed, scanning the shadows.

"Yeah." I stood, turning—and froze.

A Skraith loomed at the street's end, taller than the one I'd seen, armor gleaming wet. Its weapon flared, green light cutting the dark.

"Move!" Rylan shouted, shoving me aside. He flung a weak blast of energy, barely a flicker, but it bought us seconds. The Skraith charged, claws raking pavement.

Liv fired, bullets sparking off its shell. Jace lunged, baton crackling, and scored a hit—electricity sizzling across its arm. It roared, backhanding him into a wall. He hit hard, slumping.

Tucker barreled in, machete swinging, but the Skraith caught the blade mid-strike, twisting it free like it was nothing. I gripped the alien weapon, panic surging. It pulsed harder, syncing with the hum in me.

Weapon Interface Possible. Mimicry Synergy Detected.

I didn't think—just acted. I pointed it at the Skraith and squeezed, praying I wasn't about to blow my hand off. A jolt shot through me, sharp and hot, and a beam of green light erupted, slamming the Skraith square in the chest. It staggered, armor cracking, then dropped.

Silence. My arm shook, the weapon still buzzing.

"Damn," Liv breathed, staring at me. "You sure you're not enhanced?"

I swallowed, throat raw. "Told you. Complicated."

Rylan limped over, grinning despite the pain. "Keep that thing. You're a natural."

Jace groaned, pulling himself up. "Speak for yourself."

We piled back into the van, the weapon heavy in my lap. My system hummed, smug. Mimicry Active: 19 Hours Remaining. New Data Acquired.

I didn't know what I'd just done—or what it meant. But the Skraith was dead, and I wasn't. Small victories.

Back at the safehouse, the mood was tense but alive. Jace nursed a bruised rib, cursing under his breath, while Tucker cleaned his machete, unfazed. Liv examined the alien weapon, turning it over in her hands like it might bite. Rylan sat against a crate, watching me with that same sharp look from before.

"You fired it," he said, breaking the quiet. "First try. No training."

"Lucky shot," I muttered, slumping onto a cot. The tire iron clattered beside me, useless now compared to the rod humming on the table.

"Bullshit," he said, almost amused. "That wasn't luck."

I didn't answer, staring at my hands. The hum hadn't faded—18 hours left—and the weapon's pulse still echoed in my bones. My system chimed. Energy Weapon Analysis: 12% Complete. Compatibility with Mimicry: High.

Liv set the rod down, frowning. "It's tied to them somehow. Skraith tech doesn't play nice with us—usually fries anyone dumb enough to touch it."

"So why didn't it fry me?" I asked, sharper than I meant.

She shrugged. "Beats me. You're weird, Kai."

"Great. Thanks."

Rylan chuckled, then winced. "Weird's good. Weird keeps us breathing."

Tucker grunted, sheathing his machete. "Long as it kills Skraiths, I don't care."

Jace piped up, voice rough. "We need more than one. They're swarming out there."

"Agreed," Liv said. "But we're low on everything—ammo, food, time."

I shifted, uneasy. "That radio—Sector 9's still fighting. Maybe they've got supplies."

"Maybe they're dead," Jace shot back.

"Or not," Rylan said, firm. "Worth a look. We can't hide forever."

Liv nodded. "Tomorrow. Rest up tonight. Kai, you're on watch with me."

"Me?" I blinked. "I don't even—"

"You've got instincts," she cut in. "And that thing." She jerked her head at the weapon. "Prove you're not just a fluke."

I wanted to argue, but the hum in me wouldn't let me back down. "Fine."

Night fell heavy, the safehouse quiet except for the radio's faint static. Liv and I sat by the door, her pistol ready, my hands wrapped around the alien rod. The city glowed faintly outside—fires still burning.

"You're not like us," she said after a while, voice low. "But you're not normal either."

I tensed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You figure it out," she said, smirking faintly. "Just don't screw us over."

"I won't," I said, meaning it.

The hum buzzed on—18 hours and counting. I didn't know what I was becoming, but I couldn't turn back now.

The safehouse felt like a tomb, its concrete walls pressing in, the damp air thick with rust and sweat. I sat by the door, the alien weapon—still humming, still warm—in my lap, its pulse syncing with the buzz in my skull. Eighteen hours left on the mimicry, and the weight of it gnawed at me, sharp as the tire iron I'd ditched on the cot. Liv leaned against the frame, pistol loose in her hand, eyes scanning the dark outside. The radio crackled, spitting static and broken voices—Sector 9, still fighting, still bleeding out.

"You're quiet," she said, voice low, cutting through the silence like a knife. "Too quiet."

I shrugged, fingers tightening on the weapon. "Thinking."

"About what? That thing?" She nodded at the rod, its green glow faint but steady.

"Partly." I didn't tell her about the hum, the system's voice in my head, the way it kept pinging Energy Weapon Analysis: 15% Complete. Compatibility with Mimicry: Increasing. Didn't tell her I could feel it—feel them—the Skraiths, their tech, their blood on my hands from that fight. I didn't even understand it myself, not really.

Liv snorted, shifting her weight. "You're hiding something, Kai. I can smell it."

"Maybe." I met her eyes, sharp and cold in the dim light. "You're not exactly an open book either."

She smirked, faint but real, and looked away. "Fair. But we're stuck together now. Don't make me regret it."