"It is time to get up," the house AI stated calmly. It was a quiet voice that spoke directly through his remote link.

Jared rolled over. Light leaked around the curtains, too bright, stabbing at his eyes. It felt as if he had only just slipped beneath the covers, warmth still clinging to his skin. He sighed, dragging himself upright. The weight of the morning pressed down. Being late was not an option.

He sat at the kitchen table, spooning cereal into his mouth. The taste was bland, milk already warm. He opened the news feed, letting it flicker before him. Voices filled the silence, a humming drone that pressed against his skull. He only half listened, mind drifting.  

A major rush-hour derailment has disrupted the city’s subway system, shutting down several lines and leaving officials searching for explanations. Conflicting accounts have emerged regarding the cause and severity of the incident. Some sources allege a collision between two trains, resulting in hundreds dead or missing, while transit authorities maintain the derailment was minor, caused by debris or a braking system failure, and that there were no injuries. Officials have urged passengers to contact their families and employers to confirm their safety, yet they cannot account for the prolonged delays in clearing the tracks. Rumors suggest the Mindwreckers may be involved, though the organization denies any connection. Despite official reassurances, local hospitals report no influx of injured passengers, intensifying speculation as witnesses and commuters question the true events and the fate of the missing riders.

His cybernetic link beeped softly, and he reached up to touch the small button just in front of his left ear, picking up the call.

"Good morning," he said, already sure who was calling.

"Have you seen the news this morning?" Kate asked.

He nodded and then answered, "I have it on now."

"Well, that's your assignment," she stated.

He snorted. "What have you got?"

“Based on our team’s findings, the local subway system was, frankly, overdue for a derailment. Given current maintenance standards and budget constraints, these kinds of mechanical failures are less an anomaly and more a matter of time. However, what truly drew our attention wasn’t the derailment itself. It was the pattern surrounding it. Police reports indicate a marked increase in missing-person cases linked to this location and the surrounding blocks. Authorities have been quietly investigating, suspecting either a serial offender or organized criminal activity in the area. But the deeper we looked, the stranger the pattern became. Many of those who vanished fall into two categories: transients and drug users. Some were later found beheaded across the city and, more disturbingly, working professionals who inexplicably liquidated their assets, maxed out credit cards, and disappeared completely. Our current hypothesis is that a cult, or some kind of coordinated ideological group, may be responsible for both the disappearances and the derailment itself,” she explained.

“Anything to suggest Shadow?” he asked.

“Not at this point, but something is strange about this one,” she said.

"Send me the files and the address," he said, pushing the rest of his breakfast away.

He grabbed his jacket and stepped out into the hall. The files arrived, flickering across his vision. He accessed the address. Close. Too close. The city pressed in around him.

Rain poured down, drumming against the umbrella. He closed his eyes, letting the sound wash over him, a brief moment of quiet. But indulgence was a luxury. The walk light flashed green. He crossed the street, splashing through puddles, water soaking into his shoes. He moved along the sidewalk towards his assignment.

He took the stairs down, each step echoing. Yellow tape fluttered, warning him back. He ducked beneath it. At the bottom, the scene waited. The train sprawled on its side, front end crumpled against the concrete. Twisted metal. Shattered glass. Lights flickering, shadows crawling.

Jared stared. Emergency services had come and gone, and survivors gathered up. But the stories lingered. A creature on the train, some whispered. A grey man, tentacles writhing from his face. Others whispered of people snatched away before help arrived. Officially, just delirium. But he felt it. A tingling in his bones. Dark had been here.

He stepped into the debris. Glass crunched beneath his boots, sharp and unforgiving. Blood smeared the floor, a map of struggle. He climbed onto the train, lowering himself through the gaping door. Inside, darkness pressed close, broken only by the flicker of platform lights.

He looked down the length of the train. Let a tendril of Dark uncoil, drifting through the wreckage. It brought him snatches of emotion, flashes of vision. Fear. Screaming. Metal shrieking. Beneath it, a pulse. Something old, hungry. Tentacles reaching from the shadows. A large figure, arms full of the missing.

His fingertips trailed along the roof as he moved. Glass, ground to dust, sparkled beneath his boots. Blood smeared a torn seat, dark and sticky. He ducked beneath a bar, fingers brushing oily handprints on the metal. A purse, discarded. A crumpled hat. An umbrella, forgotten.

"You should mind your business," a deep voice growled at him.

He closed his eyes and severed the line of Dark that was unspooling from him. He turned around to face the speaker. There was no one in the train with him.

"We don't care for the likes of you," the voice grated.

"And what am I?" He asked.

He pulled himself up through the broken window. Ragged glass bit into his palms, sharp and cold. Blood welled, running down his forearms, staining his sleeves.

"Department Dog," it spat.

Jared could see the speaker now. It was an ogre, standing in the center of the platform, looking up at him.

He watched the ogre as he moved to the edge and dropped down. It towered over him. Not unusual. He was only 4'10". But this one loomed, belly button at his eye level. Muscles bunched beneath grey skin. It gripped a metal staff and a shield. If that staff hit him, bones would shatter.

"And what do you have against the Department?" he asked, already aware of a long list of reasons for the Shadow Kind to hate him.

It snarled, swinging the staff as it lunged. Jared dove, sliding through debris, pistols drawn. The staff slammed into empty space, a clang ringing in his ears. He fired, bullets thudding into the ogre's chest. It only grew angrier.

Jared lurched up, running across the platform, leaping over debris. Heavy footfalls thundered behind him, shaking the ground. He resisted the urge to look back. At the edge, he jumped, landing hard, knees jarring. He slid to a stop, turned, guns raised, and fired twice. Both shots landed.

The ogre roared, teeth bared. Jared, just out of reach, took aim. Two more shots. Missed. The staff whipped through the air, slamming into his side. Ribs cracked. Pain flared, white-hot. He hit the ground, breath gone, vision swimming. He hadn't seen the ogre call on the Dark, but he must have. Scrambling back, he dodged another blow. His hand found the edge of the platform. The staff came again. He let himself fall.

He hit the ground hard, air knocked from his lungs. The ogre laughed above him, the sound echoing. Jared didn't wait. He scrambled up, fired twice more. The ogre roared, leaping down. Jared ran, trying to keep distance. But the ogre was there, staff swinging. Another blow. Ribs breaking on the other side. He staggered, pain burning, but stayed upright.

Jared yelled, pain burning through him, raw and electric. He let it fuel him, opening to the Dark. Two quick steps back, guns holstered. The ogre appeared at his side. This time, he was ready. He spun, slamming his palms into its chest.

"Flame!" He screamed.

The Dark surged out, flooding through his hands. Fire blossomed, swallowing the ogre. Heat washed over him, searing his skin. The abyss opened in his mind, music whispering at the edges, calling him into the place of all creation. He stared into it, knowing it would devour him, crush everything he was. Still, he yearned to step forward. To let go.

He cried out, eyes squeezed shut, as if that could block the visions clawing at him. He called the Dark back, fighting to stem the torrent. Pulling himself from the edge, holding on for another day. He sat, staring at the charred corpse, breath coming in ragged bursts.

Jared dug the nanobot injector from his pack. Flipped off the cover. Pressed it to his thigh. A sharp stab. Warmth spreading through his blood, chasing away the ache, if only for a moment.