S5 Episode One: "Predators and Prey"

The night was warm, heavy with a summer night's humidity. New Atlantis rested under a velvet sky, quieter than usual. The usual chatter of the nightlife had dulled to a murmur, leaving the city aglow with scattered neons and flickering streetlights.

But something was stirring.

Wedged between two buildings, a shadow shifted in an alleyway, not with clumsy weight but with purpose, a fluid control. Silent. Watching. 

From the depths between the buildings, a pair of luminous eyes opened: slitted, inhuman, green reflecting the small motes of light that reached the distance from the streets. They blinked once, then a second time, slowly watching.

A faint hiss followed. It slithered through the air like a blade drawn from a sheath… curious, almost gentle, but unmistakably wrong. It was the kind of sound that would make the hairs on the back of a neck rise without knowing why.

Someone else was nearby and it knew without a doubt.

Further down the block, another shadow moved along, though much more clumsily, even slightly twitchy. A man in a scuffed jacket paced the edge of the dark, his eyes scanning empty sidewalks. He muttered to himself as he searched for easy prey. 

“Come on,” he huffed. 

“Somebody's gotta be out tonight…”

He peered down another lane. Nothing. Deserted. 

“Wallet… watch… phone… anything…” 

He moved down the block and turned into the wrong alley. 

The green eyes narrowed. The thing in the dark exhaled slowly in a long, low rasp that sounded like a warning from a nightmare. The man froze. Something felt off.

He glanced around, suddenly aware of how quiet it had gotten. No cars. No wind. Just the hum of a flickering streetlamp behind him. Slowly, he reached into his coat, fingers wrapping around the handle of a worn blade.

He wasn’t fast enough.

Later that night…

“The poor fool didn’t stand a chance…” Adam muttered, surveying the alley.

The body lay crumpled in a pool of crimson, jacket torn to ribbons. Deep, unnatural gashes split across his torso, almost like something had tried to carve him in half.

Above, Lance crouched on the edge of a rooftop, shadowed and still, his eyes scanning the surroundings.

“I don’t think many would’ve,” he replied over comms.

“Not without understanding what they were up against.”

Adam unclipped a long, hexagonal tube from his belt. With a few practiced twists and clicks, it expanded into a compact tripod.

“Well,” he said, setting a sleek angular pod on top  

“No time like the present to give the C.S.R.S. a spin.”

He stepped back and tapped a button on his gauntlet. The tripod pulsed with a soft blue glow, light trailing down its legs like veins coming alive.

“C.S.R.S. startup sequence complete,” O.R.A.C.L.E. announced smoothly in their ears. 

“Nanobots warmed up and ready for dispersal.”

“Unleash the minions!” Adam declared with mock drama.

A fine mist burst from the device, washing the alley in soft cerulean. As the scene was scanned, a holographic reconstruction materialized, ghostly blue figures reenacting the final moments. The body lifted from the ground in reverse, staggering upright. A massive, fast-moving blur struck from the shadows, then vanished up the wall in a gravity-defying leap.

Lance narrowed his eyes, watching from above in silence.

“You saw that?” Adam asked.

“The giant murderous blur?” Lance replied dryly.

“Yeah. Hard to miss. But we’ll need to let the nanites stew a bit longer if we want more than a smudge.”

“You may not have that luxury,” O.R.A.C.L.E. cut in.

“Local law enforcement is inbound.” 

Adam silenced the projection with a flick of his wrist as the C.S.R.S. unit hissed gently, the mist stopping like breath being held.

“Disabling nanites,” O.R.A.C.L.E. announced. 

“Scene integrity preserved.”

“Scene’s all yours, local PD,” Adam muttered, collapsing the tripod.

Lance remained motionless on the rooftop above, eyes sweeping the alley. He hadn’t spoken for several seconds.

“You see something?” Adam asked, already starting up the fire escape.

Lance didn’t respond right away. His gaze was locked on the far end of the alley, past the crumpled body, where the shadows pooled unnaturally. A flicker, just for a second. Something moved. Or didn’t. It was hard to tell.

“I… thought I did,” he finally replied, voice low. 

“Movement. But it’s not showing up on scans.”

Adam dropped to the ground, landing softly beside the scene again. 

“Could be your imagination.”

“Could be,” Lance said, though his voice lacked conviction. 

“But I don’t like this. Just feels… watched.”

O.R.A.C.L.E. chimed in gently. 

“I detect elevated cortisol and adrenaline, Lance...”

“I’m not running,” he murmured. 

“Just don’t want to get caught still cleaning up when the cops roll in.”

“Which is now about thirty seconds away,” O.R.A.C.L.E. added.

Adam nodded once. 

“Time to vanish.”

The two vigilantes slipped into the shadows, disappearing up a fire escape and melting into the nightscape above, just as flashing blue lights turned the corner.

---

NAPD cruisers screeched to a halt beside the alley. Doors flew open, and a small unit of officers moved in with trained, efficient steps.

At the head of them was Lt. Chase, coat tossed over his shoulder, badge gleaming at his chest, a frown already etched onto his face.

He didn’t like these calls. Not the ones with this kind of mess.

“Clear left. Check that fire escape,” he barked. 

“Secure the scene. No press.”

One officer gagged as they came close to the body.

“Dam…” they muttered. “What did this?”

The Lieutenant stepped closer and crouched near the body, careful not to disturb the pooling blood. His eyes traced the shredded fabric and the unnatural gashes.

“These aren’t blade wounds,” he muttered. 

“Not standard. Something else…”

He looked up, eyes narrowing at the faint scratches etched high on the brick wall. Nearly two stories up.

“…Something big.”

Behind him, another officer approached.

“Sir, no prints. No blood trail. But there’s a strange haze… like static interference in the scanner’s feed.”

Lt. Chase stood slowly. 

“Someone’s been here before us.”

He scanned the rooftops.

“And they didn’t want to be found.”

---

Stillness returned to the alley.

But not silence.

From the recesses of a crumbled fire escape, something stirred. A shape, tall and coiled like muscle wrapped in obsidian shadow, clung silently above the scene. Watching.

Breathing.

The scent of blood lingered, sharp and delicious. But the voices, their meanings danced at the edges of understanding.

No threat. No prey.

Only echoes.

The creature, whatever it was, receded slowly, green eyes narrowing as it shifted higher up the walls, slipping out of sight like a specter returning to fog.

Inside, a war of instinct raged against thought.

A name almost rose to the surface. A memory, frayed and half-buried. A face. A voice.

But it vanished as quickly as it came.

All that remained was the pulse, the rhythm of the hunt. The scent trail of the one who got away.

And something new.

A feeling it didn’t yet understand.

Recognition.