whispers of the f*******n

The city used to have a name, aplós. People still whispered it sometimes—quietly, like it might hear them—but most had stopped saying it out loud. Names belonged to a different time. A safer one. Now, it was just the city. A place where the lights never fully went out… but never truly shined either. Everything changed the year people started becoming something else. No one agreed on what caused it. Some said it was a disease. Others called it evolution. The more desperate called it punishment. Whatever it was, it didn’t choose evenly—and it didn’t come kindly. Some people got lucky. Stronger bodies, Faster reflexes, Abilities they could hide, control… even use like what “Heroes” did. Others weren’t so fortunate.They changed too much. At first, there were heroes. At least, that’s what the news called them. People who stepped forward, used their abilities to stop crime, to save lives, to prove that whatever was happening… wasn’t the end. For a while, people believed them. Then came the accidents. The losses. The ones who couldn’t control it,The ones who didn’t want to. Fear spreads faster than hope. It didn’t take long before the word “gifted” disappeared. Replaced with something simpler. Something colder. Targets, Also known as “villains” to the normal people who could do anything and live an average life as much as they could. Now, the city runs on quiet rules. Don’t ask questions. Don’t look too closely. And if you see something… inhuman— No, you didn’t Because the Agencies always see. And the Agencies always comes. High above the streets, where sirens became background noise and the air felt thinner, something moved. Fast, Precise, Watching. She landed without a sound, crouched low against the edge of a rooftop, fingers gripping concrete like she belonged there more than the building itself. The hood shadowed her face, but not enough to hide the stillness in her posture. Listening. Always listening. Below, people moved in careful patterns. Heads down, Steps quick. No sudden movements. Even the way they talked had changed—short, quiet, controlled. Like the city itself was listening for mistakes. Maybe it was. Her fingers twitched. A thin web strand slipped from them, catching the edge of a nearby structure. Not mechanical, nor artificial but Natural. It tightened as she tested it, Still strong. Good. “Sector clear.” The voice echoed faintly from a drone passing overhead. She froze. Drones weren’t new. They had been introduced for “public safety,” at least according to the screens that still flickered in subway stations and on building sides. They scanned for irregular heat signatures, unusual movement, anything that didn’t fit the pattern of normal human behavior. Anything like her. “Thermal spike detected. Rooftop level.” Her breath hitched. Too slow. She moved. The web snapped taut, pulling her forward as she launched across the gap between buildings. The wind tore at her hood, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Because once they saw you— They didn’t forget. Boots slammed onto the rooftop behind her, Heavy, Organized. “Visual confirmed,” one of them said. “Spider-class mutation.” Her jaw tightened. Mutation. Like she was a mistake. She spun, firing multiple strands at once. They split midair, stretching wider than they should have—snapping across vents, railings, anything that would hold. The first hunter hit it full force. The sound of impact cracked through the air as they were yanked off their feet. The others adjusted instantly. They always did. She ran, Not in a straight line—never in a straight line. Across uneven rooftops, down narrow ledges, through spaces too tight for anyone chasing her at full speed. Every movement was instinctive now. Calculated, Refined. Survival wasn’t something she thought about anymore, It was something she was. Then, A shadow passed over her, Silent, Massive, Wrong. She didn’t need to look, She already knew. He landed ahead of her, white wings folding slowly behind him, Too controlled, Too confident. “Well,” he said, voice steady—almost bored. “You’re still alive.” She stopped. Not because she wanted to, but Because there was nowhere left to go. Behind her, the hunters closed in. In front of her was Him. He wasn’t like the others, They followed orders. He enjoyed them. “Do you know,” he continued, tilting his head slightly, “how many of your kind are left?” Silence... Her fingers curled slightly, readying another strand. “Not many,” he answered for her,. “The Agency’s been very efficient.” there was A pause.Then, almost softer “You’re one of the last interesting ones.” Her chest tightened, Not fear but Something sharper. She moved. Low, fast, straight toward him, A mistake, Or at least, that’s what it looked like. At the last second, she twisted, firing a strand past him instead of at him. It latched onto a distant structure—barely visible in the dark. He turned but was Too late. The web snapped tight, then she was gone. Shot sideways with violent speed, disappearing off the rooftop and into a narrow fracture between buildings too small, too unstable for anything his size to follow. He stepped forward, stopping at the edge, Looking down, Listening but Nothing. A slow smile spread across his face. “She’s learning.” Above the city, the drones continued their sweep, Below, people kept walking like nothing had happened. And somewhere in between, something hunted, Something hid, And the city… Pretended not to notice. By morning, the city pretended nothing had happened, It always did. Screens flickered back to life across buildings and transit stations, cycling through polished announcements and calm voices that didn’t match the reality people lived in. “Agency patrols remain active to ensure public safety. Report all suspicious activity immediately.” The words repeated. Over. And over. And over. No mention of rooftops, No mention of hunters, No mention of the ones who never made it out. The Agency didn’t lie, They just didn’t tell the whole truth. To most people, the Agency was protection. Order, Control. They were the ones who stepped in when something “wrong” appeared something unnatural, unstable… dangerous. And sometimes, that was true.... Sometimes. But there were others. The quiet ones, The hidden ones, The ones who didn’t hurt anyone, Who didn’t want to, They were taken too.